Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by James Fenimore Cooper

  As Hetty concluded, she reverently unrolled a small English Bible from its envelope of coarse calico; treating the volume with the sort of external respect that a Romanist would be apt to show to a religious relic. As she slowly proceeded in her task, the grim warriors watched each movement with riveted eyes; and when they saw the little volume appear, a slight expression of surprise escaped one or two of them. But Hetty held it out towards them in triumph, as if she expected the sight would produce a visible miracle; and then, without betraying either surprise or mortification at the stoicism of the Indians, she turned eagerly to her new friend, in order to renew the discourse.

  “This is the sacred volume, Hist,” she said, “and these words, and lines, and verses, and chapters, all came from God.”

  “Why Great Spirit no send book to Injin, too?” demanded Hist with the directness of a mind that was totally unsophisticated.

  “Why?” demanded Hetty, a little bewildered by a question so unexpected. “Why? Ah! You know the Indians don’t know how to read.”

  If Hist was not satisfied with the explanation, she did not deem the point of sufficient importance to be pressed. Simply bending her body, in gentle admission of the truth of what she heard, she sat patiently awaiting the further arguments of the paleface enthusiast.

  “You can tell these chiefs, that throughout this book, men are ordered to forgive their enemies; to treat them as they would brethren; and never to injure their fellow creatures, more especially on account of revenge, or any evil passion. Do you think you can tell them this, so that they will understand it, Hist?”

  “Tell him well enough; but be no very easy to understand.”

  Hist then conveyed the ideas of Hetty in the best manner she could to the attentive Indians; who heard her words with some such surprise as an American of our own times would be apt to betray at a suggestion that the great modern, but vacillating ruler of things human, public opinion, might be wrong. One or two of their number, however, having met with missionaries, said a few words in explanation, and then the group gave all its attention to the communications that were to follow. Before Hetty resumed, she inquired earnestly of Hist if the chiefs had understood her, and receiving an evasive answer, was fain to be satisfied.

  “I will now read to the warriors some of the verses that it is good for them to know,” continued the girl, whose manner grew more solemn and earnest as she proceeded; “and they will remember that they are the words of the Great Spirit. First, then, ye are commanded to ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself.’ Tell them that, dear Hist.”

  “Neighbor for Injin no mean paleface,” answered the Delaware girl, with more decision than she had hitherto thought it necessary to use. “Neighbor mean Iroquois for Iroquois, Mohican for Mohican, paleface for paleface. No need tell chief anything else.”

  “You forget, Hist, these are the words of the Great Spirit, and the chiefs must obey them as well as others. Here is another commandment : ‘Whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.’ ”

  “What that mean?” demanded Hist, with the quickness of lightning.

  Hetty explained that it was an order not to resent injuries, but rather to submit to receive fresh wrongs from the offender.

  “And hear this too, Hist,” she added, “ ‘Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you.’ ”

  By this time Hetty had become excited. Her eye gleamed with the earnestness of her feelings, her cheeks flushed, and her voice, usually so low and modulated, became stronger and more impressive. With the Bible she had been early made familiar by her mother; and she now turned from passage to passage with surprising rapidity, taking care to cull such verses as taught the sublime lessons of Christian charity and Christian forgiveness. To translate half she said, in her pious earnestness, Wah-ta-Wah would have found it impracticable, had she made the effort; but wonder held her tongue-tied, equally with the chiefs; and the young, simpleminded enthusiast had fairly become exhausted with her own efforts, before the other opened her mouth again to utter a syllable. Then, indeed, the Delaware girl gave a brief translation of the substance of what had been both read and said, confining herself to one or two of the more striking of the verses, those that had struck her own imagination as the most paradoxical, and which certainly would have been the most applicable to the case, could the uninstructed minds of the listeners embrace the great moral truths they conveyed.

  It will be scarcely necessary to tell the reader the effect that such novel duties would be likely to produce among a group of Indian warriors, with whom it was a species of religious principle never to forget a benefit or to forgive an injury. Fortunately, the previous explanations of Hist had prepared the minds of the Hurons for something extravagant; and most of that which to them seemed inconsistent and paradoxical was accounted for by the fact, that the speaker possessed a mind that was constituted differently from those of most of the human race. Still there were one or two old men who had heard similar doctrines from the missionaries, and they felt a desire to occupy an idle moment by pursuing a subject that they found so curious.

  “This is the Good Book of the palefaces,” observed one of these chiefs, taking the volume from the unresisting hand of Hetty, who gazed anxiously at his face, while he turned the leaves, as if she expected to witness some visible results from the circumstances. “This is the law by which my white brethren profess to live?”

  Hist, to whom this question was addressed, if it might be considered as addressed to any one in particular, answered simply in the affirmative; adding that both the French of the Canadas and the Yengeese of the British provinces equally admitted its authority, and affected to revere its principles.

  “Tell my young sister,” said the Huron, looking directly at Hist, “that I will open my mouth and say a few words.”

  “The Iroquois chief go to speak—my paleface friend listen,” said Hist.

  “I rejoice to hear it!” exclaimed Hetty “God has touched his heart, and he will let father and Hurry go!”

  “This is the paleface law,” resumed the chief. “It tells him to do good to them that hurt him; when his brother asks him for his rifle, to give him the powder horn too. Such is the paleface law?”

  “Not so—not so,” answered Hetty earnestly, when these words had been interpreted. “There is not a word about rifles in the whole book; and powder and bullets give offense to the Great Spirit.”

  “Why, then, does the paleface use them? If he is ordered to give double to him that asks only for one thing, why does he take double from the poor Indians, who ask for no thing? He comes from beyond the rising sun, with his book in his hand, and he teaches the redman to read it; but why does he forget himself all it says? When the Indian gives, he is never satisfied; and now he offers gold for the scalps of our women and children, though he calls us beasts if we take the scalp of a warrior killed in open war. My name is Rivenoak.”2

  When Hetty had got this formidable question fairly presented to her mind in the translation, and Hist did her duty with more than usual readiness on this occasion, it scarcely need be said that she was sorely perplexed. Abler heads than that of this poor girl have frequently been puzzled by questions of a similar drift; and it is not surprising, that with all her own earnestness and sincerity she did not know what answer to make.

  “What shall I tell them, Hist?” she asked, imploringly; “I know that all I have read from the book is true; and yet it wouldn’t seem so, would it, by the conduct of those to whom the book was given?”

  “Give ‘em paleface reason,” returned Hist, ironically; “that always good for one side; though he bad for t’other.”

  “No, no, Hist, there can’t be two sides to truth—and yet it does seem strange! I’m certain I have read the verses right, and no one would be so wicked as to print the word of God wrong. That can never be, Hist.”

  “Well, to poor Injin girl it seem everything
can be to palefaces,” returned the other coolly. “One time ‘ey say white, and one time ’ey say black. Why, never can be?”

  Hetty was more and more embarrassed, until, overcome with the apprehension that she had failed in her object, and that the lives of her father and Hurry would be the forfeit of some blunder of her own, she burst into tears. From that moment the manner of Hist lost all its irony and cool indifference, and she became the fond caressing friend again. Throwing her arms around the afflicted girl, she attempted to soothe her sorrows by the scarcely ever failing remedy of female sympathy

  “Stop cry—no cry,” she said, wiping the tears from the face of Hetty, as she would have performed the same office for a child, and stopping to press her, occasionally, to her own warm bosom with the affection of a sister; “why you so trouble? You no make he book, if he be wrong, and you no make he paleface, if he be wicked. There wicked redman, and wicked white man—no color all good—no color all wicked. Chiefs know that well enough.”

  Hetty soon recovered from this sudden burst of grief, and then her mind reverted to the purpose of her visit, with its single-hearted earnestness. Perceiving that the grim-looking chiefs were still standing around her, in grave attention, she hoped that another effort to convince them of the right might be successful.

  “Listen, Hist,” she said, struggling to suppress her sobs, and to speak distinctly; “tell the chiefs that it matters not what the wicked do—right is right—the words of the Great Spirit are the words of the Great Spirit—and no one can go harmless for doing an evil act, because another has done it before him! ‘Render good for evil; says this book; and that is the law for the redman as well as for the white man.”

  “Never hear such law among Delaware, or among Iroquois,” answered Hist, soothingly. “No good to tell chiefs any such law as dat. Tell ‘em somet’ing they believe.”

  Hist was about to proceed, notwithstanding, when a tap on the shoulder, from the finger of the oldest chief, caused her to look up. She then perceived that one of the warriors had left the group, and was already returning to it with Hutter and Hurry. Understanding that the two last were to become parties in the inquiry, she became mute, with the unhesitating obedience of an Indian woman. In a few seconds the prisoners stood face to face with the principal men of the captors.

  “Daughter,” said the senior chief to the young Delaware, “ask this graybeard why he came into our camp?”

  The question was put by Hist, in her own imperfect English, but in a way that was easy to be understood. Hutter was too stern and obdurate, by nature, to shrink from the consequences of any of his acts, and he was also too familiar with the opinions of the savages not to understand that nothing was to be gained by equivocation, or an unmanly dread of their anger. Without hesitating, therefore, he avowed the purpose with which he had landed, merely justifying it by the fact that the government of the province had bid high for scalps. This frank avowal was received by the Iroquois with evident satisfaction, not so much, however, on account of the advantage it gave them in a moral point of view, as by proving that they had captured a man worthy of occupying their thoughts, and of becoming a subject of their revenge. Hurry, when interrogated, confessed the truth, though he would have been more disposed to concealment than his sterner companion, did the circumstances very well admit of its adoption. But he had tact enough to discover that equivocation would be useless at that moment, and he made a merit of necessity by imitating a frankness, which, in the case of Hutter, was the offspring of habits of indifference acting on a disposition that was always ruthless and reckless of personal consequences.

  As soon as the chiefs had received the answers to their questions, they walked away in silence, like men who deemed the matter disposed of, all Hetty’s dogmas being thrown away on beings trained in violence from infancy to manhood. Hetty and Hist were now left alone with Hutter and Hurry, no visible restraint being placed on the movements of either; though all four, in fact, were vigilantly and unceasingly watched. As respects the men, care was had to prevent them from getting possession of any of the rifles that lay scattered about, their own included; and there all open manifestations of watchfulness ceased. But they, who were so experienced in Indian practices, knew too well how great was the distance between appearances and reality, to become the dupes of this seeming carelessness. Although both thought incessantly on the means of escape, and this without concert, each was aware of the uselessness of attempting any project of the sort that was not deeply laid and promptly executed. They had been long enough in the encampment, and were sufficiently observant to have ascertained that Hist, also, was a sort of captive; and, presuming on the circumstance, Hutter spoke in her presence more openly than he might otherwise have thought it prudent to do, inducing Hurry to be equally unguarded by his example.

  “I’ll not blame, you, Hetty, for coming on this errand, which was well meant, if not very wisely planned,” commenced the father, seating himself by the side of his daughter, and taking her hand, a sign of affection that this rude being was accustomed to manifest to this particular child; “but preaching and the Bible are not the means to turn an Indian from his ways. Has Deerslayer sent any message; or has he any scheme by which he thinks to get us free?”

  “Ay, that’s the substance of it!” put in Hurry; “if you can help us, gal, to half a mile of freedom, or even a good start of a short quarter, I’ll answer for the rest. Perhaps the old man may want a little more, but for one of my height and years that will meet all objections.”

  Hetty looked distressed, turning her eyes from one to the other; but she had no answer to give to the question of the reckless Hurry “Father,” she said, “neither Deerslayer nor Judith knew of my coming, until I had left the ark. They are afraid the Iroquois will make a raft, and try to get off to the hut, and think more of defending that, than of coming to aid you.”

  “No—no—no,” said Hist, hurriedly, though in a low voice, and with her face bent towards the earth, in order to conceal from those whom she knew to be watching them the fact of her speaking at all. “No, no, no, Deerslayer different man. He no t‘ink of defending ’self, with friend in danger. Help one another, and all get to hut.”

  “This sounds well, old Tom,” said Hurry, winking and laughing, though he too used the precaution to speak low. “Give me a ready-witted squaw for a fri’nd, and though I’ll not downright defy an Iroquois, I think I would defy the devil.”

  “No talk loud,” said Hist; “some Iroquois got Yengeese tongue, and all got Yengeese ear.”

  “Have we a friend in you, young woman?” inquired Hutter, with an increasing interest in the conference. “If so, you may calculate on a solid reward; and nothing will be easier than to send you to your own tribe, if we can once fairly get you off with us to the castle. Give us the ark and the canoes, and we can command the lake, spite of all the savages in the Canadas. Nothing but artillery could drive us out of the castle, if we can get back to it.”

  “S‘pose ’ey come ashore to take scalp?” retorted Hist, with cool irony, at which the girl appeared to be more expert than is common for her sex.

  “Ay, ay—that was a mistake; but there is little use in lamentations, and less still, young woman, in flings.”

  “Father,” said Hetty, “Judith thinks of breaking open the big chest, in hopes of finding something in that which may buy your freedom of the savages.”

  A dark look came over Hutter, at the announcement of this fact, and he muttered his dissatisfaction in a way to render it intelligible enough.

  “What for no break open chest?” put in Hist. “Life sweeter than old chest—scalp sweeter than old chest. If no tell darter to break him open, Wah-ta-Wah no help him to run away.”

  “Ye know not what ye ask—ye are but silly girls, and the wisest way for ye both is to speak of what ye understand, and to speak of nothing else. I little like this cold neglect of the savages, Hurry; it’s a proof that they think of something serious, and if we are to do anything we must do it
soon. Can we count on this young woman, think you?”

  “Listen,” said Hist, quickly, and with an earnestness that proved how much her feelings were concerned; “Wah-ta-Wah no Iroquois—all over Delaware—got Delaware heart—Delaware feeling. She prisoner, too. One prisoner help t’udder prisoner. No good to talk more now. Darter stay with fader—Wah-ta-Wah come and see friend—all look right—then tell what he do.”

  This was said in a low voice, but distinctly, and in a manner to make an impression. As soon as it was uttered, the girl arose and left the group, walking composedly towards the hut she occupied, as if she had no further interest in what might pass between the palefaces.

  CHAPTER XII

  “She speaks much of her father; says she hears

  There’s tricks i’ the world; and hems, and beats her heart;

  Spurns enviously at straws: speaks things in doubt,

  That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,

  Yet the unsuspected use of it doth move

  The hearers to collection.”

  Shakespeare

  WE LEFT THE OCCUPANTS of the castle and the ark buried in sleep. Once or twice, in the course of the night, it is true, Deerslayer or the Delaware arose and looked out upon the tranquil lake, when, finding all safe, each returned to his pallet, and slept like a man who was not easily deprived of his natural rest. At the first signs of the dawn, the former arose, however, and made his personal arrangements for the day; though his companion, whose nights had not been tranquil or without disturbance of late, continued on his blanket until the sun had fairly risen. Judith, too, was later than common that morning, for the earlier hours of the night had brought her little of either refreshment or sleep. But ere the sun had shown himself over the eastern hills, these too were up and afoot; even the tardy, in that region, seldom remaining on their pallets after the appearance of the great luminary