The Leatherstocking Tales II

by James Fenimore Cooper

  “Neither, Judith—neither one nor t’other. The Mingos are Mingos still, and will live and die Mingos; it is not likely their natur’s will ever undergo much improvement. Well! They’ve their gifts, and we’ve our’n, Judith, and it does’n’t much become either to speak ill of what the Lord has created; though, if the truth must be said, I find it a sore trial to think kindly, or to talk kindly of them vagabonds. As for outwitting them, that might have been done, and it was done, too, atween the Sarpent, yonder, and me, when we were on the trail of Hist—” here the hunter stopped to laugh in his own silent fashion—“but it’s no easy matter to sarcumvent the sarcumvented. Even the fa’ans get to know the tricks of the hunters afore a single season is over, and an Indian whose eyes have once been opened by a sarcumvention never shuts them ag’in in precisely the same spot. I’ve known whites to do that, but never a red skin. What they l’arn comes by practice, and not by books, and of all schoolmasters exper’ence gives lessons that are the longest remembered.”

  “All this is true, Deerslayer, but if you have not escaped from the savages, how came you here?”

  “That’s a nat’ral question, and charmingly put. You are wonderful handsome this evening, Judith, or, Wild Rose, as the Sarpent calls you, and I may as well say it, since I honestly think it! You may well call them Mingos, savages too, for savage enough do they feel, and savage enough will they act, if you once give them an opportunity. They feel their loss here, in the late skrimmage, to their hearts’ cores, and are ready to revenge it on any creatur’ of English blood that may fall in their way. Nor, for that matter do I much think they would stand at taking their satisfaction out of a Dutch man.”

  “They have killed father; that ought to satisfy their wicked cravings for blood,” observed Hetty reproachfully.

  “I know it, gal—I know the whole story—partly from what I’ve seen from the shore, since they brought me up from the point, and partly from their threats ag’in myself, and their other discourse. Well, life is unsartain at the best, and we all depend on the breath of our nostrils for it, from day to day. If you’ve lost a staunch fri’nd, as I make no doubt you have, Providence will raise up new ones in his stead, and since our acquaintance has begun in this oncommon manner, I shall take it as a hint that it will be a part of my duty in futur’, should the occasion offer, to see you do n’t suffer for want of food in the wigwam. I can’t bring the dead to life, but as to feeding the living, there’s few on all this frontier can outdo me, though I say it in the way of pity and consolation, like, and in no particular, in the way of boasting.”

  “We understand you, Deerslayer,” returned Judith, hastily, “and take all that falls from your lips, as it is meant, in kindness and friendship. Would to Heaven all men had tongues as true, and hearts as honest!”

  “In that respect men do differ, of a sartainty, Judith. I’ve known them that was n’t to be trusted any farther than you can see them; and others ag’in whose messages, sent with a small piece of wampum, perhaps, might just as much be depended on, as if the whole business was finished afore your face. Yes, Judith, you never said truer word, than when you said some men might be depended on, and other some might not.”

  “You are an unaccountable being, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, not a little puzzled with the childish simplicity of character that the hunter so often betrayed—a simplicity so striking that it frequently appeared to place him nearly on a level with the fatuity of poor Hetty, though always relieved by the beautiful moral truth that shone through all that this unfortunate girl both said and did—“You are a most unaccountable man, and I often do not know how to understand you. But never mind, just now; you have forgotten to tell us by what means you are here.”

  “I!—Oh! That’s not very onaccountable, if I am myself, Judith. I’m out on furlough.”

  “Furlough!—That word has a meaning among the soldiers that I understand; but I cannot tell what it signifies when used by a prisoner.”

  “It means just the same. You’re right enough; the soldiers do use it, and just in the same way as I use it. A furlough is when a man has leave to quit a camp, or a garrison for a sartain specified time; at the end of which he is to come back and shoulder his musket, or submit to his torments, just as he may happen to be a soldier, or a captyve. Being the last, I must take the chances of a prisoner.”

  “Have the Hurons suffered you to quit them in this manner, without watch or guard.”

  “Sartain—I woul’n’t have come in any other manner, unless indeed it had been by a bold rising, or a sarcumvention.”

  “What pledge have they that you will ever return?”

  “My word,” answered the hunter simply. “Yes, I own I gave ’em that, and big fools would they have been to let me come without it! Why in that case, I should n’t have been obliged to go back and ondergo any deviltries their fury may invent, but might have shouldered my rifle, and made the best of my way to the Delaware villages. But, Lord! Judith, they know’d this, just as well as you and I do, and would no more let me come away, without a promise to go back, than they would let the wolves dig up the bones of their fathers!”

  “Is it possible you mean to do this act of extraordinary self-destruction and recklessness?”

  “Anan!”

  “I ask if it can be possible that you expect to be able to put yourself again in the power of such ruthless enemies, by keeping your word.”

  Deerslayer looked at his fair questioner for a moment, with stern displeasure. Then the expression of his honest and guileless face suddenly changed, lighting as by a quick illumination of thought, after which he laughed in his ordinary manner.

  “I did n’t understand you, at first, Judith; no, I did n’t! You believe that Chingachgook and Hurry Harry won’t suffer it; but you do n’t know mankind thoroughly yet, I see. The Delaware would be the last man on ’arth to offer any objections to what he knows is a duty, and, as for March, he does n’t care enough about any creatur’ but himself to spend many words on such a subject. If he did, ’twould make no great difference howsever; but not he, for he thinks more of his gains than of even his own word. As for my promises, or your’n, Judith, or any body else’s, they give him no consarn. Don’t be under any oneasiness, therefore, gal; I shall be allowed to go back according to the furlough; and if difficulties was made, I’ve not been brought up, and edicated as one may say, in the woods, without knowing how to look ’em down.”

  Judith made no answer for some little time. All her feelings as a woman, and as a woman who, for the first time in her life was beginning to submit to that sentiment which has so much influence on the happiness or misery of her sex, revolted at the cruel fate that she fancied Deerslayer was drawing down upon himself, while the sense of right, which God has implanted in every human breast, told her to admire an integrity as indomitable and as unpretending as that which the other so unconsciously displayed. Argument, she felt would be useless, nor was she, at that moment, disposed to lessen the dignity and high principle that were so striking in the intentions of the hunter, by any attempt to turn him from his purpose. That something might yet occur to supersede the necessity for this self immolation she tried to hope, and then she proceeded to ascertain the facts in order that her own conduct might be regulated by her knowledge of circumstances.

  “When is your furlough out, Deerslayer,” she asked, after both canoes were heading towards the Ark, and moving, with scarcely a perceptible effort of the paddles, through the water.

  “To-morrow noon; not a minute afore; and you may depend on it, Judith, I shan’t quit what I call christian company, to go and give myself up to them vagabonds, an instant sooner than is downright necessary. They begin to fear a visit from the garrisons, and would n’t lengthen the time a moment, and it’s pretty well understood atween us, that, should I fail in my ar’n’d, the torments are to take place when the sun begins to fall, that they may strike upon their home trail as soon as it is dark.”

  This was said solemnly, as if the
thought of what was believed to be in reserve duly weighed on the prisoner’s mind, and yet so simply, and without a parade of suffering, as rather to repel than to invite any open manifestations of sympathy.

  “Are they bent on revenging their losses?” Judith asked faintly, her own high spirit yielding to the influence of the other’s quiet but dignified integrity of purpose.

  “Downright, if I can judge of Indian inclinations, by the symptoms. They think howsever I do n’t suspect their designs, I do believe, but one that has lived so long among men of red skin gifts, is no more likely to be misled in Injin feelin’s, than a true hunter is like to lose his trail, or a stanch hound his scent. My own judgment is greatly ag’in my own escape, for I see the women are a good deal enraged on behalf of Hist, though I say it, perhaps, that should n’t say it, seein’ that I had a considerable hand myself in getting the gal off. Then there was a cruel murder in their camp last night, and that shot might just as well have been fired into my breast. Howsever, come what will, the Sarpent and his wife will be safe, and that is some happiness in any case.”

  “Oh! Deerslayer, they will think better of this, since they have given you until to-morrow noon to make up your mind!”

  “I judge not, Judith; yes, I judge not. An Injin is an Injin, gal, and it’s pretty much hopeless to think of swarving him, when he’s got the scent and follows it with his nose in the air. The Delawares, now, are a half christianized tribe—not that I think such sort of christians much better than your whole blooded onbelievers—but, nevertheless, what good half christianizing can do to a man, some among ’em have got, and yet revenge clings to their hearts like the wild creepers here to the tree! Then, I slew one of the best and boldest of their warriors, they say, and it is too much to expect that they should captivate the man who did this deed, in the very same scouting on which it was performed, and they take no account of the matter. Had a month, or so, gone by, their feelin’s would have been softened down, and we might have met in a more friendly way, but it is, as it is. Judith, this is talking of nothing but myself, and my own consarns, when you have had trouble enough, and may want to consult a fri’nd a little about your own matters. Is the old man laid in the water, where I should think his body would like to rest?”

  “It is, Deerslayer,” answered Judith, almost inaudibly. “That duty has just been performed. You are right in thinking that I wish to consult a friend; and that friend is yourself. Hurry Harry is about to leave us; when he is gone, and we have got a little over the feelings of this solemn office, I hope you will give me an hour alone. Hetty and I are at a loss what to do.”

  “That’s quite nat’ral, coming as things have, suddenly and fearfully. But here’s the Ark, and we’ll say more of this, when there is a better opportunity.”

  Chapter XXIII

  “The winde is great upon the highest hilles;

  The quiet life is in the dale below;

  Who tread on ice shall slide against their willes;

  They want not cares, that curious arts should know;

  Who lives at ease and can content him so,

  Is perfect wise, and sets us all to schoole:

  Who hates this lore may well be called a foole.”

  —Thomas Churchyard, “Shore’s Wife,” xlvii.

  * * *

  THE MEETING between Deerslayer and his friends in the Ark was grave and anxious. The two Indians, in particular, read in his manner that he was not a successful fugitive, and a few sententious words sufficed to let them comprehend the nature of what their friend had termed his ‘furlough.’ Chingachgook immediately became thoughtful, while Hist, as usual, had no better mode of expressing her sympathy than by those little attentions which mark the affectionate manner of woman.

  In a few minutes, however, something like a general plan for the proceedings of the night was adopted, and to the eye of an uninstructed observer things would be thought to move in their ordinary train. It was now getting to be dark, and it was decided to sweep the Ark up to the castle, and secure it in its ordinary berth. This decision was come to, in some measure on account of the fact that all the canoes were again in the possession of their proper owners, but principally, from the security that was created by the representations of Deerslayer. He had examined the state of things among the Hurons, and felt satisfied that they meditated no further hostilities during the night, the loss they had met having indisposed them to further exertions for the moment. Then, he had a proposition to make; the object of his visit; and, if this were accepted, the war would at once terminate between the parties; and it was improbable that the Hurons would anticipate the failure of a project on which their chiefs had apparently set their hearts, by having recourse to violence previously to the return of their messenger.

  As soon as the Ark was properly secured, the different members of the party occupied themselves in their several peculiar manners, haste in council, or in decision, no more characterizing the proceedings of these border whites, than it did those of their red neighbors. The women busied themselves in preparations for the evening meal, sad and silent, but ever attentive to the first wants of nature. Hurry set about repairing his moccasins, by the light of a blazing knot; Chingachgook seated himself in gloomy thought, while Deerslayer proceeded, in a manner equally free from affectation and concern, to examine ‘Killdeer’, the rifle of Hutter that has been already mentioned, and which subsequently became so celebrated, in the hands of the individual who was now making a survey of its merits. The piece was a little longer than usual, and had evidently been turned out from the work shops of some manufacturer of a superior order. It had a few silver ornaments, though, on the whole, it would have been deemed a plain piece by most frontier men, its great merit consisting in the accuracy of its bore, the perfection of the details, and the excellence of the metal. Again and again did the hunter apply the breech to his shoulder, and glance his eye along the sights, and as often did he poise his body and raise the weapon slowly, as if about to catch an aim at a deer, in order to try the weight, and to ascertain its fitness for quick and accurate firing. All this was done, by the aid of Hurry’s torch, simply, but with an earnestness and abstraction that would have been found touching by any spectator who happened to know the real situation of the man.

  “’Tis a glorious we’pon, Hurry!” Deerslayer at length exclaimed, “and it may be thought a pity that it has fallen into the hands of women. The hunters have told me of its expl’ites, and by all I have heard, I should set it down as sartain death in exper’enced hands. Hearken to the tick of this lock—a wolf trap has’n’t a livelier spring; pan and cock speak together, like two singing masters undertaking a psalm in meetin’. I never did see so true a bore, Hurry, that’s sartain!”

  “Ay, Old Tom used to give the piece a character, though he was n’t the man to particularize the ra’al natur’ of any sort of fire arms, in practise,” returned March, passing the deer’s thongs through the moccasin with the coolness of a cobbler. “He was no marksman, that we must all allow; but he had his good p’ints, as well as his bad ones. I have had hopes that Judith might consait the idee of giving Killdeer to me.”

  “There’s no saying what young women may do, that’s a truth, Hurry, and I suppose you’re as likely to own the rifle as another. Still, when things are so very near perfection, it’s a pity not to reach it entirely.”

  “What do you mean by that?—Would not that piece look as well on my shoulder, as on any man’s?”

  “As for looks, I say nothing, You are both good-looking, and might make what is called a good-looking couple. But the true p’int is as to conduct. More deer would fall in one day, by that piece, in some man’s hands, than would fall in a week in your’n, Hurry! I’ve seen you try; yes, remember the buck t’other day.”

  “That buck was out of season, and who wishes to kill venison out of season. I was merely trying to frighten the creatur’, and I think you will own that he was pretty well skeared, at any rate.”

  “Well, well, have i
t as you say. But this is a lordly piece, and would make a steady hand and quick eye the King of the Woods!”

  “Then keep it, Deerslayer, and become King of the Woods,” said Judith, earnestly, who had heard the conversation, and whose eye was never long averted from the honest countenance of the hunter. “It can never be in better hands than it is, at this moment, and there I hope it will remain these fifty years.”

  “Judith you can’t be in ’arnest!” exclaimed Deerslayer; taken so much by surprise, as to betray more emotion than it was usual for him to manifest on ordinary occasions. “Such a gift would be fit for a ra’al King to make; yes, and for a ra’al King to receive.”

  “I never was more in earnest, in my life, Deerslayer, and I am as much in earnest in the wish as in the gift.”

  “Well, gal, well; we’ll find time to talk of this ag’in. You must n’t be down hearted, Hurry, for Judith is a sprightly young woman, and she has a quick reason; she knows that the credit of her father’s rifle is safer in my hands, than it can possibly be in yourn; and, therefore, you must n’t be downhearted. In other matters, more to your liking, too, you’ll find she’ll give you the preference.”

  Hurry growled out his dissatisfaction, but he was too intent on quitting the lake, and in making his preparations, to waste his breath on a subject of this nature. Shortly after, the supper was ready, and it was eaten in silence, as is so much the habit of those who consider the table as merely a place of animal refreshment. On this occasion, however, sadness and thought contributed their share to the general desire not to converse, for Deerslayer was so far an exception to the usages of men of his cast, as not only to wish to hold discourse on such occasions, but as often to create a similar desire in his companions.