“You are wrong—you are wrong, friend Cap, very wrong to distrust the power of God, in any thing,” returned Pathfinder, earnestly. “Them that live in the settlements and the towns get to have confined and unjust opinions consarning the might of His hand, but we who pass our time, in his very presence, as it might be, see things differently—I mean such of us as have white natur’s. A red skin has his notions, and it is right that it should be so, and if they are not exactly the same as a christian white man’s, there is no harm in it. Still there are matters that belong altogether to the ordering of God’s Providence, and these salt and fresh water lakes are some of them. I do not pretend to account for these things, but I think it the duty of all to believe in them. For my part, I am one of them who think that the same hand which made the sweet water, can make the salt.”
“Hold on there, Master Pathfinder—” interrupted Cap, not without some heat; “in the way of a proper and manly faith, I will turn my back on no one, ashore or afloat. Although more accustomed to make all snug aloft, and to show the proper canvass than to pray, when the hurricane comes, I know that we are but helpless mortals, at times, and I hope I pay reverence where reverence is due. All I mean to say, and that is rather insiniated than said, is this; which is, as you all know, simply an intimation that being accustomed to see waters in large bodies salt, I should like to taste it, before I can believe it to be fresh.”
“God has given the salt licks to the deer, and he has given to man, red skin and white, the delicious spring at which to slake his thirst. It is onreasonable to think that he may not have given lakes of pure water to the west, and lakes of impure water to the east.”
Cap was awed, in spite of his overweening dogmatism, by the earnest simplicity of the Pathfinder, though he did not relish the idea of believing a fact which, for many years, he had pertinaciously insisted could not be true. Unwilling to give up the point, and, at the same time, unable to maintain it against a reasoning to which he was unaccustomed, and which possessed equally the force of truth, faith and probability, he was glad to get rid of the subject by evasion.
“Well, well, friend Pathfinder,” he said, “we will nipper the argument where it is, and, as the serjeant has sent you to give us pilotage to this same lake, we can only try the water when we reach it—only mark my words, I do not say that it may not be fresh on the surface; the Atlantic is sometimes fresh on the surface, near the mouths of great rivers; but, rely on it, I shall show you a way of tasting the water many fathoms deep, of which you never dreamed; and then we shall know more about it.”
The guide seemed content to let the matter rest, and the conversation changed.
“We are not over-consated consarning our gifts,” observed the Pathfinder after a short pause, “and well know that such as live in the towns, and near the sea—”
“On the sea,” interrupted Cap.
“On the sea, if you wish it, friend, have opportunities that do not befall us of the wilderness. Still, we know our own callings, and they are what I consider nat’ral callings, and are not parvarted by vanity and wantonness. Now, my gifts are with the rifle, and on a trail, and in the way of game and scoutin’, for, though I can use the spear and the paddle, I pride not myself on either. The youth, Jasper there, who is discoursing with the sarjeant’s daughter, is a different creatur’, for he may be said to breathe the water, as it might be, like a fish. The Indians and Frenchers of the north shore, call him Eau douce, on account of his gifts, in this particular. He is better at the oar and the rope-tie, than in making fires on a trail.”
“There must be something about these gifts of which you speak after all,” said Cap. “Now this fire, I will acknowledge, has overlaid all my seamanship. Arrowhead, there, said the smoke came from a pale-face’s fire, and that is a piece of philosophy that I hold to be equal to steering in a dark night by the edges of the scud.”
“It’s no great secret—it’s no great secret,” returned Pathfinder, laughing with great inward glee, though habitual caution prevented the emission of any noise. “Nothing is easier to us who pass our time in the great school of Providence than to l’arn its lessons. We should be as useless on a trail, or in carrying tidings through the wilderness, as so many woodchucks, did we not soon come to a knowledge of these niceties. Eau douce, as we call him, is so fond of the water that he gathered a damp stick or two for our fire, and there be plenty of them, as well as those that are thoroughly dried, lying scattered about, and wet will bring dark smoke, as I suppose even you followers of the sea must know. It’s no great secret—it’s no great secret—though all is mystery to such as does’n’t study the Lord and his mighty ways, with humility and thankfulness.”
“That must be a keen eye of Arrowhead’s, to see so slight a difference.”
“He would be but a poor Injin if he did’n’t! No—no—it is war-time, and no red-skin is outlying without using his senses. Every skin has its own natur’, and every natur’ has its own laws, as well as its own skin. It was many years afore I could master all them higher branches of a forest edication, for red-skin knowledge does’n’t come as easy to white skin natur’, as what I suppose is intended to be white skin knowledge; though I have but little of the latter, having passed most of my time in the wilderness.”
“You have been a ready scholar, Master Pathfinder, as is seen by your understanding these things so well. I suppose it would be no great matter, for a man regularly brought up to the sea, to catch these trifles, if he could only bring his mind fairly to bear upon them.”
“I don’t know that—The white man has his difficulties in getting red skin habits, quite as much as the Injin in getting white skin ways. As for the raal natur’, it is my opinion that neither can actually get that of the other.”
“And yet we sailors, who run about the world so much, say there is but one nature, whether it be in the Chinaman, or a Dutchman. For my own part, I am much of that way of thinking, too, for I have generally found that all nations like gold and silver, and most men relish tobacco.”
“Then you sea-faring men know little of the red-skins. Have you ever known any of your China-men who could sing their death songs, with their flesh torn with splinters, and cut with knives, the fire raging around their naked bodies, and death staring them in the face? Until you can find me a China-man, or a christian-man that can do all this, you cannot find a man with a red-skin natur’, let him look ever so valiant, or know how to read all the books that were ever printed.”
“It is the Savages, only, that play each other such hellish tricks,” said Master Cap, glancing his eyes about him, uneasily, at the apparently endless arches of the forest; “no white man is ever condemned to undergo these trials.”
“Nay, therein, you are ag’in mistaken,” returned the Pathfinder, coolly selecting a delicate morsel of the venison, as his bonne bouche; “for though these torments belong only to the red-skin natur’, in the way of bearing them like braves, white-skin natur’, may be, and often has been agonized by them.”
“Happily,” said Cap, with an effort to clear his throat, “none of His Majesty’s allies, will be likely to attempt such damnable cruelties, on any of His Majesty’s loyal subjects. I have not served much in the royal navy, it is true, but I have served—and that is something; and, in the way of privateering and worrying the enemy in his ships and cargoes, I’ve done my full share. But I trust there are no French savages on this side of the lake, and I think you said that Ontario is a broad sheet of water?”
“Nay, it is broad in our eyes,” returned Pathfinder, not caring to conceal the smile which lighted a face, that had been burnt by exposure to a bright red, “though I mistrust that some may think it narrow; and narrow it is, if you wish it to keep off the foe. Ontario has two inds, and the inimy that is afraid to cross it, will be sartain to come round it.”
“Ah! that comes of your d—d fresh water ponds!” growled Cap, hemming so loud, as to cause him instantly to repent the indiscretion. “No man, now, ever heard of a p
irate’s, or a thief’s getting round an end of the Atlantic!”
“Mayhap the ocean has no inds?”
“That it has’n’t; nor sides, nor bottom. The nation that is snugly moored on one of its coasts need fear nothing from the one anchored abeam, let it be ever so savage, unless it possesses the art of ship-building. No—no—the people who live on the shores of the Atlantic need fear but little for their skins, or their scalps. A man may lie down at night, in those regions, in the hope of finding the hair on his head in the morning, unless he wears a wig.”
“It is’n’t so here. I don’t wish to flurry the young woman, and therefore I will be no way particular—though she seems pretty much listening to Eau douce, as we call him—but without the edication I have received, I should think it, at this very moment, a risky journey to go over the very ground that lies atween us and the garrison, in the present state of this frontier. There are about as many Iroquois on this side of Ontario, as there be on the other. It is for this very reason, friend Cap, that the sarjeant has engaged us to come out and show you the path.”
“What!—do the knaves dare to cruise so near the guns of one of His Majesty’s works?”
“Do not the ravens resort near the carcase of the deer, though the fowler is at hand? They come this-a-way, as it might be nat’rally. There are more or less whites passing atween the forts and the settlements, and they are sure to be on their trails. The Sarpent has come up one side of the river, and I have come up the other, in order to scout for the outlying rascals, while Jasper brought up the canoe, like a bold-hearted sailor, as he is. The Sarjeant told him, with tears in his eyes, all about his child, and how his heart yearned for her, and how gentle and obedient she was, until I think the lad would have dashed into a Mingo camp, single handed, rather than not acome.”
“We thank him—we thank him; and shall think the better of him for his readiness, though I suppose the boy has run no great risk, after all.”
“Only the risk of being shot from a cover, as he forced the canoe up a swift rift, or turned an elbow in the stream, with his eyes fastened on the eddies. Of all risky journeys, that on an ambushed river, is the most risky, in my judgment, and that risk has Jasper run.”
“And why the devil, has the serjeant sent for me to travel a hundred and fifty miles, in this outlandish manner! Give me an offing, and the enemy in sight, and I’ll play with him in his own fashion, as long as he pleases, long bows, or close quarters; but to be shot like a turtle asleep, is not to my humour. If it were not for little Magnet, there, I would tack ship this instant, make the best of my way back to York, and let Ontario take care of itself, salt water or fresh water.”
“That would’n’t mend the matter much, friend mariner, as the road to return is much longer, and almost as bad as the road to go on. Trust to us, and we will carry you through safe, or lose our scalps.”
Cap wore a tight solid cue, done up in eel-skin, while the top of his head was nearly bald; and he mechanically passed his hand over both, as if to make certain that each was in its right place. He was at the bottom, however, a brave man, and had often faced death with coolness, though never in the frightful forms in which it presented itself, under the brief but graphic pictures of his companion. It was too late to retreat, and he determined to put the best face on the matter, though he could not avoid muttering inwardly a few curses on the indifference and indiscretion with which his brother-in-law, the serjeant, had led him into his present dilemma.
“I make no doubt, Master Pathfinder,” he answered, when these thoughts had found time to glance through his mind, “that we shall reach port in safety. What distance may we now be from the fort?”
“Little more than fifteen miles; and swift miles too, as the river runs, if the Mingos let us go clear.”
“And I suppose the woods will stretch along, starboard and larboard, as heretofore?”
“Anan?”
“I mean that we shall have to pick our way, through these damned trees!”
“Nay, nay, you will go in the canoe, and the Oswego has been cleared of its flood-wood by the troops. It will be floating down stream, and that, too, with a swift current.”
“And what the devil is to prevent these Minks, of which you speak, from shooting us as we double a head-land, or are busy in steering clear of the rocks.”
“The Lord!—He who has so often helped others, in greater difficulties. Many and many is the time that my head would have been stripped of hair, skin and all, had’n’t the Lord fit of my side. I never go into a skrimmage, friend mariner, without thinking of this great ally, who can do more in battle, than all the battalions of the 60th, were they brought into a single line.”
“Ay—ay—this may do well enough for a scouter, but we seamen like our offing, and to go into action with nothing on our minds, but the business before us—plain broadside and broadside work, and no trees, or rocks, to thicken the water.”
“And no Lord, too, I dare to say, if the truth were known! Take my word for it, Master Cap, that no battle is the worse fou’t, for having the Lord on your side. Look at the head of the Big Sarpent, there; you can see the mark of a knife, all along there by his left ear; now, nothing but a bullet from this long rifle of mine, saved his scalp that day, for it had fairly started, and half a minute more would have left him without the war-lock. When the Mohican squeezes my hand, and intermates that I befriended him in that matter, I tell him, no; it was the Lord, who led me to the only spot where execution could be done, or his necessity be made known, on account of the smoke. Sartain when I got the right position, I finished the affair of my own accord, for a friend under the tomahawk is apt to make a man think quick and act at once, as was my case, or the Sarpent’s spirit would be hunting in the happy land of his people, at this very moment.”
“Come, come, Pathfinder, this palaver is worse than being skinned from stem to stern; we have but a few hours of sun, and had better be drifting down this said current of yours, while we may. Magnet, dear, are you not ready to get under way?”
Magnet started, blushed brightly, and made her preparations, for an immediate departure. Not a syllable of the discourse just related, had she heard, for Eau douce, as young Jasper was oftener called than any thing else, had been filling her ears with a description of the yet distant post towards which she was journeying, with accounts of her father, whom she had not seen since a child, and with the manner of life of those who lived in the frontier garrisons. Unconsciously, she had become deeply interested, and her thoughts had been too intently directed to these interesting matters, to allow any of the less agreeable subject, discussed by those so near to reach her ears. The bustle of departure put an end to the conversation entirely, and the baggage of the scouts, or guides, being trifling, in a few minutes, the whole party was ready to proceed. As they were about to quit the spot, however, to the surprise of even his fellow guides, Pathfinder collected a quantity of branches, and threw them upon the embers of the fire, taking care even to see that some of the wood was damp, in order to raise as dark and dense a smoke as possible.
“When you can hide your trail, Jasper,” he said, “a smoke at leaving an encampment may do good, instead of harm. If there are a dozen Mingos within ten miles of us, some of ’em, are on the heights, or in the trees, looking out for smokes; let them see this, and much good may it do them. They are welcome to our leavings.”
“But may they not strike, and follow on our trail?” asked the youth, whose interest in the hazards of his situation had much increased, since the meeting with Magnet. “We shall leave a broad path to the river.”
“The broader the better; when there, it will surpass Mingo cunning, even, to say which way the canoe has gone; up stream, or down. Water is the only thing in natur’ that will thoroughly wash out a trail, and even water will not always do it, when the scent is strong. Do you not see, Eau douce, that if any Mingos have seen our path below the falls, they will strike off towards this smoke, and that they will nat’rally conclude t
hey who began by going up stream, will ind by going up stream. If they know any thing, they now know a party is out from the fort, and it will exceed even Mingo wit, to fancy that we have come up here, just for the pleasure of going back again, and that, too, the same day, and at the risk of our scalps.”
“Certainly,” added Jasper, who was talking apart with the Pathfinder, as they moved towards the wind-row, “they cannot know any thing, about the serjeant’s daughter, for the greatest secrecy has been observed, on her account.”
“And they will larn nothing, here,” returned Pathfinder, causing his companion to see that he trod with the utmost care, on the impressions left on the leaves, by the little foot of Mabel, “unless this old salt-water fish, has been trotting his niece about in the wind-row, like a fa’n playing by the side of the old doe.”
“Buck, you mean, Pathfinder.”
“Isn’t he a queerity!—Now, I can consort with such a sailor as yourself, Eau douce, and find nothing very contrary, in our gifts, though yourn belong to the lakes and mine to the woods. Harkee, Jasper—” continued the scout, laughing in his noiseless manner; “suppose we try the temper of his blade, and run him over the falls?”
“And what would be done with the pretty niece, in the mean while?”
“Nay—nay—no harm shall come to her; she must walk round the portage, at any rate, but you and I can try this Atlantic Oceaner, and then all parties will become better acquainted. We shall find out, whether his flint will strike fire, and he may come to know something of frontier tricks.”
Young Jasper smiled, for he was not averse to fun, and had been a little touched by Cap’s superciliousness, but Mabel’s fair face, light agile form, and winning smiles, stood like a shield, between her uncle and the intended experiment.
“Perhaps the serjeant’s daughter will be frightened,” he said.
“Not she, if she has any of the sarjeant’s spirit in her. She does’n’t look like a skeary thing, at all. Leave it to me, Eau douce, and I will manage the affair alone.”
The Leatherstocking Tales II Page 4