 | THE DEERSLAYER. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path |  |
1. THE DEERSLAYER.
1. CHAPTER I.
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal,
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.”
Childe Harold.
On the human imagination, events produce the effects
of time. Thus, he who has travelled far and seen much,
is apt to fancy that he has lived long; and the history that
most abounds in important incidents, soonest assumes the
aspect of antiquity. In no other way can we account for
the venerable air that is already gathering around American
annals. When the mind reverts to the earliest days of colonial
history, the period seems remote and obscure, the
thousand changes that thicken along the links of recollections,
throwing back the origin of the nation to a day so
distant as seemingly to reach the mists of time; and yet
four lives of ordinary duration would suffice to transmit,
from mouth to mouth, in the form of tradition, all that
civilized man has achieved within the limits of the republic.
Although New York, alone, possesses a population
materially exceeding that of either of the four smallest
kingdoms of Europe, or materially exceeding that of the
entire Swiss Confederation, it is little more than two centuries
since the Dutch commenced their settlement, rescuing
by an accumulation of changes, is reduced to familiarity
when we come seriously to consider it solely in
connection with time.
This glance into the perspective of the past, will prepare
the reader to look at the pictures we are about to sketch,
with less surprise than he might otherwise feel; and a few
additional explanations may carry him back in imagination,
to the precise condition of society that we desire to delineate.
It is matter of history that the settlements on the
eastern shores of the Hudson, such as Claverack, Kinderhook,
and even Poughkeepsie, were not regarded as safe
from Indian incursions a century since; and there is still
standing on the banks of the same river, and within musket-shot
of the wharves of Albany, a residence of a younger
branch of the Van Rensselaers, that has loop-holes constructed
for defence against the same crafty enemy, although
it dates from a period scarcely so distant. Other similar
memorials of the infancy of the country are to be found,
scattered through what is now deemed the very centre of
American civilization, affording the plainest proofs that all
we possess of security from invasion and hostile violence,
is the growth of but little more than the time that is frequently
filled by a single human life.
The incidents of this tale occurred between the years
1740 and 1745, when the settled portions of the colony of
New York were confined to the four Atlantic counties, a
narrow belt of country on each side of the Hudson, extending
from its mouth to the falls near its head, and to a
few advanced “neighbourhoods” on the Mohawk and the
Schoharie. Broad belts of the virgin wilderness, not only
reached the shores of the first river, but they even crossed
it, stretching away into New England, and affording forest
covers to the noiseless moccasin of the native warrior, as
he trod the secret and bloody war-path. A bird's-eye view
of the whole region east of the Mississippi, must then have
offered one vast expanse of woods, relieved by a comparatively
narrow fringe of cultivation along the sea, dotted
by the glittering surfaces of lakes, and intersected by the
waving lines of rivers. In such a vast picture of solemn
solitude, the district of country we design to paint sinks into
conviction that, with slight and immaterial distinctions, he
who succeeds in giving an accurate idea of any portion of
this wild region, must necessarily convey a tolerably correct
notion of the whole.
Whatever may be the changes produced by man, the
eternal round of the seasons is unbroken. Summer and
winter, seed-time and harvest, return in their stated order,
with a sublime precision, affording to man one of the noblest
of all the occasions he enjoys of proving the high
powers of his far-reaching mind, in compassing the laws
that control their exact uniformity, and in calculating their
never-ending revolutions. Centuries of summer suns had
warmed the tops of the same noble oaks and pines, sending
their heats even to the tenacious roots, when voices were
heard calling to each other, in the depths of a forest, of
which the leafy surface lay bathed in the brilliant light of a
cloudless day in June, while the trunks of the trees rose in
gloomy grandeur in the shades beneath. The calls were
in different tones, evidently proceeding from two men who
had lost their way, and were searching in different directions
for their path. At length a shout proclaimed success,
and presently a man broke out of the tangled labyrinth
of a small swamp, emerging into an opening that appeared
to have been formed partly by the ravages of the wind,
and partly by those of fire. This little area, which afforded
a good view of the sky, although it was pretty well filled
with dead trees, lay on the side of one of the high hills,
or low mountains, into which nearly the whole surface of
the adjacent country was broken.
“Here is room to breathe in!” exclaimed the liberated
forester, as soon as he found himself under a clear sky,
shaking his huge frame like a mastiff that has just escaped
from a snow-bank; “Hurrah! Deerslayer; here is day-light,
at last, and yonder is the lake.”
These words were scarcely uttered when the second
forester dashed aside the bushes of the swamp, and appeared
in the area. After making a hurried adjustment of
his arms and disordered dress, he joined his companion,
who had already begun his dispositions for a halt.
“Do you know this spot?” demanded the one called
Deerslayer, “or do you shout at the sight of the sun?”
“Both, lad, both; I know the spot, and am not sorry to
see so useful a friend as the sun. Now we have got the
p'ints of the compass in our minds, once more, and 't will
be our own faults if we let any thing turn them topsy-turvy
ag'in, as has just happened. My name is not Hurry
Harry, if this be not the very spot where the land-hunters
'camped the last summer, and passed a week. See, yonder
are the dead bushes of their bower, and here is the spring.
Much as I like the sun, boy, I've no occasion for it to tell
me it is noon; this stomach of mine is as good a time-piece
as is to be found in the colony, and it already p'ints
to half past twelve. So open the wallet, and let us wind
up for another six hours' run.”
At this suggestion, both set themselves about making the
preparations necessary for their usual frugal, but hearty,
meal. We will profit by this pause in the discourse to give
the reader some idea of the appearance of the men, both
of whom are destined to enact no insignificant parts in our
legend. It would not have been easy to find a more noble
specimen of vigorous manhood, than was offered in the
person of him who called himself Hurry Harry. His real
name was Henry March; but the frontier-men having
caught the practice of giving sobriquets, from the Indians,
the appellation of Hurry was far oftener applied to him
than his proper designation, and not unfrequently he was
termed Hurry Skurry, a nick-name he had obtained from a
dashing, reckless, off-hand manner, and a physical restlessness
that kept him so constantly on the move, as to
cause him to be known along the whole line of scattered
habitations that lay between the province and the Canadas.
The stature of Hurry Harry exceeded six feet four, and
being unusually well proportioned, his strength fully realized
the idea created by his gigantic frame. The face
did no discredit to the rest of the man, for it was both good-humoured
and handsome. His air was free, and though
his manner necessarily partook of the rudeness of a border
life, the grandeur that pervaded so noble a physique prevented
it from becoming altogether vulgar.
Deerslayer, as Hurry called his companion, was a very
stature, he stood about six feet in his moccasins, but his
frame was comparatively light and slender, showing muscles,
however, that promised unusual agility, if not unusual
strength. His face would have had little to recommend it
except youth, were it not for an expression that seldom
failed to win upon those who had leisure to examine it, and
to yield to the feeling of confidence it created. This expression
was simply that of guileless truth, sustained by an
earnestness of purpose, and a sincerity of feeling, that rendered
it remarkable. At times this air of integrity seemed
to be so simple as to awaken the suspicion of a want of the
usual means to discriminate between artifice and truth; but
few came in serious contact with the man, without losing
this distrust in respect for his opinions and motives.
Both these frontier-men were still young, Hurry having
reached the age of six or eight and twenty, while Deerslayer
was several years his junior. Their attire needs no particular
description, though it may be well to add that it was
composed in no small degree of dressed deer-skins, and had
the usual signs of belonging to those who passed their time
between the skirts of civilized society and the boundless
forests. There was, notwithstanding, some attention to
smartness and the picturesque in the arrangements of Deerslayer's
dress, more particularly in the part connected with
his arms and accountrements. His rifle was in perfect condition,
the handle of his hunting-knife was neatly carved,
his powder-horn was ornamented with suitable devices,
lightly cut into the material, and his shot-pouch was decorated
with wampum. On the other hand, Hurry Harry,
either from constitutional recklessness, or from a secret consciousness
how little his appearance required artificial aids,
wore every thing in a careless, slovenly manner, as if he
felt a noble scorn for the trifling accessories of dress and
ornaments. Perhaps the peculiar effect of his fine form and
great stature was increased, rather than lessened, by this
unstudied and disdainful air of indifference.
“Come, Deerslayer, fall to, and prove that you have a
Delaware stomach, as you say you have had a Delaware
edication,” cried Hurry, setting the example by opening his
mouth to receive a slice of cold venison steak that would
lad, and prove your manhood on this poor devil of a doe,
with your teeth, as you've already done with your rifle.”
“Nay, nay, Hurry, there's little manhood in killing a
doe, and that, too, out of season; though there might be
some in bringing down a painter, or a catamount,” returned
the other, disposing himself to comply. “The Delawares
have given me my name, not so much on account of a bold
heart, as on account of a quick eye, and an actyve foot.
There may not be any cowardyce in overcoming a deer, but
sartain it is, there's no great valour.”
“The Delawares, themselves, are no heroes,” muttered
Hurry through his teeth, the mouth being too full to permit
it to be fairly opened, “or they would never have allowed
them loping vagabonds, the Mingos, to make them women.”
“That matter is not rightly understood—has never been
rightly explained,” said Deerslayer earnestly, for he was as
zealous a friend, as his companion was dangerous as an
enemy; “the Mengwe fill the woods with their lies, and
misconceive words and treaties. I have now lived ten years
with the Delawares, and know them to be as manful as any
other nation, when the proper time to strike comes.”
“Harkee, Master Deerslayer, since we are on the subject,
we may as well open our minds to each other in a man-to-man
way; answer me one question; you have had so much
luck among the game as to have gotten a title, it would
seem, but did you ever hit any thing human or intelligible:
did you ever pull trigger on an inimy that was capable of
pulling one upon you?”
This question produced a singular collision between mortification
and correct feeling, in the bosom of the youth, that
was easily to be traced in the workings of his ingenuous
countenance. The struggle was short, however; uprightness
of heart soon getting the better of false pride, and frontier
boastfulness.
“To own the truth, I never did,” answered Deerslayer;
“seeing that a fitting occasion never offered. The Delawares
have been peaceable since my sojourn with 'em, and
I hold it to be onlawful to take the life of man, except in
open and ginerous warfare.”
“What! did you never find a fellow thieving among your
hands, by way of saving the magistrates trouble, in the settlements,
and the rogue himself the costs of the suit?”
“I am no trapper, Hurry,” returned the young man
proudly: “I live by the rifle, a we'pon at which I will not
turn my back on any man of my years, atween the Hudson
and the St. Lawrence. I never offer a skin that has not a
hole in its head besides them which natur' made to see with,
or to breathe through.”
“Ay, ay, this is all very well, in the animal way, though
it makes but a poor figure alongside of scalps and and-bushes.
Shooting an Indian from an and-bush is acting up
to his own principles, and now we have what you call a
lawful war on our hands, the sooner you wipe that disgrace
off your conscience, the sounder will be your sleep; if it
only come from knowing there is one inimy the less prowling
in the woods. I shall not frequent your society long,
friend Natty, unless you look higher than four-footed beasts
to practyse your rifle on.”
“Our journey is nearly ended, you say, Master March,
and we can part to-night, if you see occasion. I have a
fri'nd waiting for me, who will think it no disgrace to consort
with a fellow-creatur' that has never yet slain his kind.”
“I wish I knew what has brought that skulking Delaware
into this part of the country so early in the season,” muttered
Hurry to himself, in a way to show equally distrust
and a recklessness of its betrayal. “Where did you say
the young chief was to give you the meeting?”
“At a small, round rock, near the foot of the lake, where,
they tell me, the tribes are given to resorting to make their
treaties, and to bury their hatchets. This rock have I often
heard the Delawares mention, though lake and rock are
equally strangers to me. The country is claimed by both
Mingos and Mohicans, and is a sort of common territory to
fish and hunt through, in time of peace, though what it
may become in war-time, the Lord only knows!”
“Common territory!” exclaimed Hurry, laughing aloud.
“I should like to know what Floating Tom Hutter would
say to that? He claims the lake as his own property, in
vartue of fifteen years' possession, and will not be likely to
for it.”
“And what will the colony say to such a quarrel? All
this country must have some owner, the gentry pushing
their cravings into the wilderness, even where they never
dare to ventur', in their own persons, to look at'em.”
“That may do in other quarters of the colony, Deerslayer,
but it will not do here. Not a human being, the Lord excepted,
owns a foot of s'ile in this part of the country. Pen
was never put to paper, consarning either hill or valley,
hereaway, as I've heard old Tom say, time and ag'in, and
so he claims the best right to it of any man breathing; and
what Tom claims, he'll be very likely to maintain.”
“By what I've heard you say, Hurry, this Floating Tom
must be an oncommon mortal; neither Mingo, Delaware,
nor Pale-Face. His possession, too, has been long, by your
tell, and altogether beyond frontier endurance. What's the
man's history and natur'?”
“Why, as to old Tom's human natur', it is not much
like other men's human natur', but more like a musk-rat's
human natur', seeing that he takes more to the ways of that
animal, than to the ways of any other fellow-creatur'.
Some think he was a free liver on the salt-water, in his
youth, and a companion of a sartain Kidd, who was hanged
for piracy, long afore you and I were born, or acquainted,
and that he came up into these regions, thinking that the
king's cruisers could never cross the mountains, and that he
might enjoy the plunder peaceably in the woods.”
“Then he was wrong, Hurry; very wrong. A man can
enjoy plunder peaceably nowhere.”
“That's much as his turn of mind may happen to be.
I've known them that never could enjoy it at all, unless it was
in the midst of a jollification, and them ag'in that enjoyed it
best in a corner. Some men have no peace if they don't
find plunder, and some if they do. Human natur' is crooked
in these matters. Old Tom seems to belong to neither set,
as he enjoys his, if plunder he has really got, with his darters,
in a very quiet and comfortable way, and wishes for
no more.”
“Ay, he has darters, too; I've heard the Delawares,
women. Is there no mother, Hurry?”
“There was once, as in reason; but she has now been
dead and sunk these two good years.”
“Anan?” said Deerslayer, looking up at his companion
in a little surprise.
“Dead and sunk, I say, and I hope that's good English.
The old fellow lowered his wife into the lake, by way of
seeing the last of her, as I can testify, being an eye-witness
of the ceremony; but whether Tom did it to save digging,
which is no easy job among roots, or out of a consait that
water washes away sin sooner than 'arth, is more than I
can say.”
“Was the poor woman oncommon wicked, that her husband
should take so much pains with her body?”
“Not onreasonable; though she had her faults. I consider
Judith Hutter to have been as graceful, and about as
likely to make a good ind, as any woman who had lived so
long beyond the sound of church bells; and I conclude old
Tom sunk her as much by way of saving pains, as by way
of taking it. There was a little steel in her temper, it's
true, and, as old Hutter is pretty much flint, they struck out
sparks once-and-a-while, but, on the whole, they might be
said to live amicable like. When they did kindle, the
listeners got some such insights into their past lives, as one
gets into the darker parts of the woods, when a stray gleam
of sunshine finds its way down to the roots of the trees.
But Judith I shall always esteem, as it's recommend enough
to one woman to be the mother of such a creatur' as her
darter, Judith Hutter!”
“Ay, Judith was the name the Delawares mentioned,
though it was pronounced after a fashion of their own.
From their discourse, I do not think the girl would much
please my fancy.”
“Thy fancy!” exclaimed March, taking fire equally at
the indifference and at the presumption of his companion,
“what the devil have you to do with a fancy, and that, too,
consarning one like Judith? You are but a boy—a sapling,
that has scarce got root. Judith has had men among her
suitors, ever since she was fifteen; which is now near five
creatur' like you!”
“It is June, and there is not a cloud atween us and the
sun, Hurry, so all this heat is not wanted,” answered the
other, altogether undisturbed; “any one may have a fancy,
and a squirrel has a right to make up his mind touching a
catamount.”
“Ay, but it might not be wise, always, to let the catamount
know it,” growled March. “But you're young and
thoughtless, and I'll overlook your ignorance. Come,
Deerslayer,” he added, with a good-natured laugh, after
pausing a moment to reflect, “come, Deerslayer, we are
sworn fri'nds, and will not quarrel about a light-minded,
jilting jade, just because she happens to be handsome; more
especially as you have never seen her. Judith is only for a
man whose teeth show the full marks, and it's foolish to be
afeard of a boy. What did the Delawares say of the hussy;
for, an Indian, after all, has his notions of woman-kind,
as well as a white man?”
“They said she was fair to look on, and pleasant of
speech; but over-given to admirers, and light-minded.”
“They are devils incarnate! After all, what schoolmaster
is a match for an Indian, in looking into natur'? Some
people think they are only good on a trail, or the war-path,
but I say that they are philosophers, and understand a man,
as well as they understand a beaver, and a woman as well
as they understand either. Now that's Judith's character
to a riband! To own the truth to you, Deerslayer, I should
have married the gal two years since, if it had not been for
two particular things, one of which was this very light-mindedness.”
“And what may have been the other?” demanded the
hunter, who continued to eat like one that took very little
interest in the subject.
“T' other was an unsartainty about her having me.
The hussy is handsome, and she knows it. Boy, not a
tree that is growing in these hills is straighter, or waves in
the wind with an easier bend, nor did you ever see the doe
that bounded with a more nat'ral motion. If that was all,
every tongue would sound her praises; but she has such
I swear I'll never visit the lake ag'in.”
“Which is the reason that you always come back? Nothing
is ever made more sure by swearing about it.”
“Ah, Deerslayer, you are a novelty in these partic'lars;
keeping as true to edication as if you had never left the settlements.
With me the case is different, and I never want
to clinch an idee, that I do not feel a wish to swear about it.
If you know'd all that I know consarning Judith, you'd find
a justification for a little cursing. Now, the officers sometimes
stray over to the lake, from the forts on the Mohawk,
to fish and hunt, and then the creatur' seems beside herself!
You can see it in the manner in which she wears her finery,
and the airs she gives herself with the gallants.”
“That is unseemly in a poor man's darter,” returned
Deerslayer gravely, “the officers are all gentry, and can
only look on such as Judith with evil intentions.”
“There's the unsartainty, and the damper! I have my
misgivings about a particular captain, and Jude has no one
to blame but her own folly, if I'm wrong. On the whole,
I wish to look upon her as modest and becoming, and yet
the clouds that drive among these hills are not more unsartain.
Not a dozen white men have ever laid eyes upon her,
since she was a child, and yet her airs, with two or three
of these officers, are extinguishers!”
“I would think no more of such a woman, but turn my
mind altogether to the forest; that will never deceive you,
being ordered and ruled by a hand that never wavers.”
“If you know'd Judith, you would see how much easier
it is to say this, than it would be to do it. Could I bring
my mind to be easy about the officers, I would carry the
gal off to the Mohawk by force, make her marry me in
spite of her whiffling, and leave old Tom to the care of
Hetty, his other child, who, if she be not as handsome, or
as quick-witted as her sister, is much the most dutiful.”
“Is there another bird in the same nest?” asked Deerslayer,
raising his eyes with a species of half-awakened
curiosity—“the Delawares spoke to me only of one.”
“That's nat'ral enough, when Judith Hutter and Hetty
Hutter are in question. Hetty is only comely, while her
sister, I tell thee, boy, is such another as is not to be found
and cunning, as an old Indian orator, while poor Hetty is
at the best but `compass meant us.' ”
“Anan?” inquired, again, the Deerslayer.
“Why, what the officers call `compass meant us,' which
I understand to signify that she means always to go in the
right direction, but sometimes doesn't know how. `Compass'
for the p'int, and `meant us' for the intention. No,
poor Hetty is what I call on the varge of ignorance, and
sometimes she stumbles on one side of the line, and sometimes
on t' other.”
“Them are beings that the Lord has in his 'special
care,” said Deerslayer, solemnly; “for he looks carefully
to all who fall short of their proper share of reason. The
Redskins honour and respect them who are so gifted,
knowing that the Evil Spirit delights more to dwell in an
artful body, than in one that has no cunning to work
upon.”
“I'll answer for it, then, that he will not remain long
with poor Hetty—for the child is just `compass meant us,'
as I have told you. Old Tom has a feeling for the gal,
and so has Judith, quick-witted and glorious as she is herself;
else would I not answer for her being altogether safe
among the sort of men that sometimes meet on the lake
shore.”
“I thought this water an onknown and little-frequented
sheet,” observed the Deerslayer, evidently uneasy at the
idea of being too near the world.
“It's all that lad, the eyes of twenty white men never
having been laid on it; still, twenty true-bred frontier-men
—hunters, and trappers, and scouts, and the like,—can do
a deal of mischief if they try. 'T would be an awful thing
to me, Deerslayer, did I find Judith married, after an absence
of six months!”
“Have you the gal's faith, to incourage you to hope
otherwise?”
“Not at all. I know not how it is—I'm good-looking,
boy; that much I can see in any spring on which the sun
shines—and yet I could never get the hussy to a promise,
or even a cordial willing smile, though she will laugh by
the hour. If she has dared to marry in my absence, she'll
twenty!”
“You would not harm the man she had chosen, Hurry,
simply because she found him more to her liking than yourself?”
“Why not? If an enemy crosses my path, will I not
beat him out of it! Look at me—am I man like to let
any sneaking, crawling, skin-trader, get the better of me in
a matter that touches me as near as the kindness of Judith
Hutter? Besides, when we live beyond law, we must be
our own judges and executioners. And if a man should
be found dead in the woods, who is there to say who slew
him, even admitting that the Colony took the matter in
hand, and made a stir about it?”
“If that man should be Judith Hutter's husband, after
what has passed, I might tell enough, at least, to put the
Colony on the trail.”
“You!—half-grown, venison-hunting bantling! You,
dare to think of informing against Hurry Harry in so much
as a matter touching a mink, or a woodchuck!”
“I would dare to speak truth, Hurry, consarning you,
or any man that ever lived.”
March looked at his companion, for a moment, in silent
amazement; then seizing him by the throat, with both
hands, he shook his comparatively slight frame, with a violence
that menaced the dislocation of some of the bones.
Nor was this done jocularly, for anger flashed from the
giant's eyes, and there were certain signs, that seemed to
threaten much more earnestness than the occasion would
appear to call for. Whatever might be the real intention
of March, and it is probable there was none settled in his
mind, it is certain that he was unusually aroused; and
most men who found themselves throttled by one of a
mould so gigantic, in such a mood, and in a solitude so
deep and helpless, would have felt intimidated, and tempted
to yield even the right. Not so, however, with Deerslayer.
His countenance remained unmoved; his hand did not
shake, and his answer was given in a voice that did not
resort to the artifice of louder tones, even, by way of
proving its owner's resolution.
“You may shake, Hurry, until you bring down the
you shake from me. It is probable that Judith Hutter has
no husband to slay, and you may never have a chance to
waylay one, else would I tell her of your threat, in the
first conversation I held with the gal.”
March released his gripe, and sat regarding the other, in
silent astonishment.
“I thought we had been friends,” he at length added—
“but you've got the last secret of mine, that will ever
enter your ears.”
“I want none, if they are to be like this. I know we
live in the woods, Hurry, and are thought to be beyond
human laws—and perhaps we are so, in fact, whatever it
may be in right—but there is a law, and a law maker, that
rule across the whole continent. He that flies in the face
of either, need not call me fri'nd.”
“Damme, Deerslayer, if I do not believe you are, at
heart, a Moravian, and no fair-minded, plain-dealing hunter,
as you've pretended to be!”
“Fair-minded or not, Hurry, you will find me as plain-dealing
in deeds, as I am in words. But this giving way
to sudden anger is foolish, and proves how little you have
sojourned with the red men. Judith Hutter no doubt is still
single, and you spoke but as the tongue ran, and not as the
heart felt. There's my hand, and we will say and think
no more about it.”
Hurry seemed more surprised than ever; then he burst
forth in a loud good-natured laugh, which brought tears to
his eyes. After this, he accepted the offered hand, and the
parties became friends.
“'T would have been foolish to quarrel about an idee,”
March cried, as he resumed his meal, “and more like
lawyers in the towns, than like sensible men in the woods.
They tell me, Deerslayer, much ill blood grows out of
idees, among the people in the lower counties, and that
they sometimes get to extremities upon them.”
“That do they—that do they; and about other matters
that might better be left to take care of themselves. I
have heard the Moravians say that there are lands in which
men quarrel even consarning their religion; and if they
can get their tempers up on such a subject, Hurry, the Lord
our following their example, and more especially about a
husband that this Judith Hutter may never see, or never
wish to see. For my part, I feel more cur'osity about the
feeble-witted sister, than about your beauty. There's
something that comes close to a man's feelin's, when he
meets with a fellow creatur' that has all the outward show
of an accountable mortal, and who fails of being what he
seems, only through a lack of reason. This is bad enough
in a man, but when it comes to a woman, and she a young,
and may-be a winning creatur', it touches all the pitiful
thoughts his natur' has. God knows, Hurry, that such poor
things are defenceless enough with all their wits about 'em;
but it's a cruel fortun' when that great protector and guide
fails 'em.”
“Harkee, Deerslayer—you know what the hunters, and
trappers, and peltry-men in general be; and their best
friends will not deny that they are headstrong and given to
having their own way, without much bethinking 'em of
other people's rights, or feelin's—and yet I don't think the
man is to be found, in all this region, who would harm
Hetty Hutter, if he could; no, not even a red-skin.”
“Therein, fri'nd Hurry, you do the Delawares, at least,
and all their allied tribes, only justice, for a red-skin looks
upon a being thus struck by God's power, as especially under
his care. I rejoice to hear what you say, howsever, I rejoice
to hear it; but as the sun is beginning to turn towards
the afternoon's sky, had we not better strike the trail ag'in,
and make forward, that we may get an opportunity of seeing
these wonderful sisters?”
Harry March giving a cheerful assent, the remnants of
the meal were soon collected; then the travellers shouldered
their packs, resumed their arms, and, quitting the little area
of light, they again plunged into the deep shadows of the
forest.
| THE DEERSLAYER. The deerslayer: or, The first war-path | |