Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by James Fenimore Cooper

  This discovery of the uses of the extraordinary-looking little images settled the affair of the proposed ransom. It was agreed generally—and all understood the weaknesses and tastes of Indians—that nothing could be more likely to tempt the cupidity of the Iroquois, than the elephants, in particular. Luckily, the whole of the castles were among the pieces, and these four tower-bearing animals it was finally determined should be the ransom offered. The remainder of the men, and, indeed, all the rest of the articles in the chest, were to be kept out of view, and to be resorted to only as a last appeal. As soon as these preliminaries were settled, everything but those intended for the bribe was carefully replaced in the chest, and all the covers were “tucked in” as they had been found; and it was quite possible, could Hutter have been put in possession of the castle again, that he might have passed the remainder of his days in it, without even suspecting the invasion that had been made on the privacy of the chest. The rent pistol would have been the most likely to reveal the secret; but this was placed by the side of its fellow, and all were pressed down as before—some half-a-dozen packages in the bottom of the chest not having been opened at all. When this was done, the lid was lowered, the padlocks replaced, and the key turned. The latter was then replaced in the pocket from which it had been taken.

  More than an hour was consumed in settling the course proper to be pursued, and in returning everything to its place. The pauses to converse were frequent; and Judith, who experienced a lively pleasure in the open, undisguised admiration with which Deerslayer’s honest eyes gazed at her handsome face, found the means to prolong the interview, with a dexterity that seems to be innate in female coquetry Deerslayer, indeed, appeared to be the first who was conscious of the time that had been thus wasted, and to call the attention of his companions to the necessity of doing something towards putting the plan of ransoming into execution. Chingachgook had remained in Hutter’s bedroom, where the elephants were laid, to feast his eyes with the images of animals so wonderful and so novel. Perhaps an instinct told him that his presence would not be as acceptable to his companions as this holding himself aloof; for Judith had not much reserve in the manifestations of her preferences, and the Delaware had not got so far as one betrothed without acquiring some knowledge of the symptoms of the master passion.2

  “Well, Judith,” said Deerslayer, rising, after the interview had lasted much longer than even he himself suspected, “ ’tis pleasant convarsing with you, and settling all these matters, but duty calls us another way. All this time, Hurry and your father, not to say Hetty—”

  The word was cut short in the speaker’s mouth, for, at that critical moment, a light step was heard on the platform or courtyard, a human figure darkened the doorway, and the person last mentioned stood before him. The low exclamation that escaped Deerslayer, and the slight scream of Judith were hardly uttered, when an Indian youth, between the ages of fifteen and seventeen, stood beside her. These two entrances had been made with moccasined feet, and consequently almost without noise; but, unexpected and stealthy as they were, they had not the effect to disturb Deerslayer’s self-possession. His first measure was to speak rapidly in Delaware to his friend, cautioning him to keep out of sight, while he stood on his guard; the second was to step to the door to ascertain the extent of the danger. No one else, however, had come; and a simple contrivance, in the shape of a raft, that lay floating at the side of the ark, at once explained the means that had been used in bringing Hetty off. Two dead and dry, and consequently buoyant logs of pine were bound together with pins and withes, and a little platform of riven chestnut had been rudely placed on their surfaces. Here Hetty had been seated on a billet of wood, while the young Iroquois had rowed the primitive and slow-moving, but perfectly safe craft from the shore. As soon as Deerslayer had taken a close survey of this raft, and satisfied himself nothing else was near, he shook his head, and muttered, in his soliloquizing way—

  “This comes of prying into another man’s chist! Had we been watchful and keen-eyed, such a surprise could never have happened; and getting this much from a boy, teaches us what we may expect when the old warriors set themselves about their sarcumventions. It opens the way, however, to a treaty for the ransom, and I will hear what Hetty has to say”

  Judith, as soon as her surprise and alarm had a little abated, discovered a proper share of affectionate joy at the return of her sister. She folded her to her bosom, and kissed her, as had been her wont in the days of their childhood and innocence. Hetty herself was less af fected, for to her there was no surprise, and her nerves were sustained by the purity and holiness of her purpose. At her sister’s request she took a seat, and entered into an account of her adventures since they had parted. Her tale commenced just as Deerslayer returned, and he also became an attentive listener, while the young Iroquois stood near the door, seemingly as indifferent to what was passing as one of its posts.

  The narrative of the girl was sufficiently clear, until she reached the time where we left her in the camp, after the interview with the chiefs, and at the moment when Hist quitted her, in the abrupt manner already stated. The sequel of the story may be told in her own language.

  “When I read the texts to the chiefs, Judith, you could not have seen that they made any changes on their minds,” she said, “but if seed is planted, it will grow. God planted the seeds of all the trees—”

  “Ay, that did he,” muttered Deerslayer; “and a goodly harvest has followed.”

  “God planted the seeds of all the trees,” continued Hetty, after a moment’s pause, “and you see to what a height and shade they have grown! So it is with the Bible. You may read a verse this year, and forget it, and it will come back to you a year hence, when you least expect to remember it.”

  “And did you find anything of this, among the savages, poor Hetty?”

  “Yes, Judith, and sooner, and more fully than I had even hoped. I did not stay long with father and Hurry, but went to get my breakfast with Hist. As soon as we had done, the chiefs came to us, and then we found the fruits of the seed that had been planted. They said that what I had read from the good book was right—it must be right—it sounded right; like a sweet bird singing in their ears; and they told me to come back and say as much to the great warrior who had slain one of their braves; and to tell it to you, and to say how happy they should be to come to church here, in the castle, or to come out in the sun, and hear me read more of the sacred volume—and to tell you that they wish you would lend them some canoes, that they can bring father and Hurry, and their women, to the castle, that we might all sit on the platform there, and listen to the singing of the paleface Manitou. There, Judith; did you ever know of anything that so plainly shows the power of the Bible as that?”

  “If it were true, ’twould be a miracle, indeed, Hetty. But all this is no more than Indian cunning and Indian treachery, striving to get the better of us by management, when they find it is not to be done by force.”

  “Do you doubt the Bible, sister, that you judge the savages so harshly?”

  “I do not doubt the Bible, poor Hetty, but I much doubt an Indian and an Iroquois. What do you say to this visit, Deerslayer?”

  “First let me talk a little with Hetty,” returned the party appealed to; “was this raft made a’ter you had got your breakfast, gal; and did you walk from the camp to the shore opposite to us, here?”

  “O! no, Deerslayer. The raft was ready made, and in the water—could that have been by a miracle, Judith?”

  “Yes—yes—an Indian miracle,” rejoined the hunter. “They’re expart enough in them sort of miracles. And you found the raft ready made to your hands, and in the water, and in waiting like for its cargo?”

  “It was all as you say. The raft was near the camp, and the Indians put me on it, and had ropes of bark, and they dragged me to the place opposite to the castle, and then they told that young man to row me off, here.”

  “And the woods are full of the vagabonds, waiting to know what is to b
e the upshot of the miracle. We comprehend this affair, now, Judith—but I’ll first get rid of this young Canadian bloodsucker, and then we’ll settle our own course. Do you and Hetty leave us together, first bringing me the elephants, which the Sarpent is admiring; for ’twill never do to let this loping deer be alone a minute, or he’ll borrow a canoe without asking.”

  Judith did as desired, first bringing the pieces, and retiring with her sister into their own room. Deerslayer had acquired some knowledge of most of the Indian dialects of that region, and he knew enough of the Iroquois to hold a dialogue in the language. Beckoning to the lad, therefore, he caused him to take a seat on the chest, when he placed two of the castles suddenly before him. Up to that moment, this youthful savage had not expressed a single intelligible emotion or fancy There were many things in and about the place that were novelties to him, but he had maintained his self-command with philosophical composure. It is true, Deerslayer had detected his dark eye scanning the defenses and the arms, but the scrutiny had been made with such an air of innocence, in such a gaping, indolent, boyish manner, that no one but a man who had himself been taught in a similar school, would have even suspected his object. The instant, however, the eyes of the savage fell upon the wrought ivory, and the images of the wonderful, unknown beasts, surprise and admiration got the mastery of him. The manner in which the natives of the South Sea Islands first beheld the toys of civilized life, has been often described; but the reader is not to confound it with the manner of an American Indian under similar circumstances. In this particular case, the young Iroquois, or Huron, permitted an exclamation of rapture to escape him, and then he checked himself, like one who had been guilty of an indecorum. After this, his eyes ceased to wander, but became riveted on the elephants, one of which, after a short hesitation he even presumed to handle. Deerslayer did not interrupt him for quite ten minutes; knowing that the lad was taking such note of the curiosities, as would enable him to give the most minute and accurate description of their appearance to his seniors, on his return. When he thought sufficient time had been allowed to produce the desired effect, the hunter laid a finger on the naked knee of the youth, and drew his attention to himself.

  “Listen,” he said; “I want to talk with my young friend from the Canadas. Let him forget that wonder for a minute.”

  “Where ’tother pale brother?” demanded the boy, looking up, and letting the idea that had been most prominent in his mind, previously to the introduction of the chessmen, escape him involuntarily “He sleeps—or if he isn’t fairly asleep, he is in the room where the men do sleep,” returned Deerslayer. “How did my young friend know there was another?”

  “See him from the shore. Iroquois have got long eyes—see beyond the clouds—see the bottom of the great spring!”

  “Well, the Iroquois are welcome. Two palefaces are prisoners in the camp of your fathers, boy.”

  The lad nodded, treating the circumstance with great apparent indifference; though a moment after he laughed as if exulting in the superior address of his own tribe.

  “Can you tell me, boy, what your chiefs intend to do with these captives; or haven’t they yet made up their minds?”

  The lad looked a moment at the hunter with a little surprise; then he coolly put the end of his forefinger on his own head, just above the left ear, and passed it around his crown, with an accuracy and readiness that showed how well he had been drilled in the peculiar art of his race.

  “When?” demanded Deerslayer, whose gorge rose at this cool demonstration of indifference to human life. “And why not take them to your wigwams?”

  “Road too long, and full of palefaces. Wigwam full, and scalps sell high. Small scalp, much gold.”

  “Well, that explains it—yes, that does explain it. There’s no need of being any plainer. Now, you know, lad, that the oldest of your prisoners is the father of these two young women, and the other is the suitor of one of them. The gals nat‘rally wish to save the scalps of such fri’nds, and they will give them two ivory creatur’s as ransom; one for each scalp. Go back and tell this to your chiefs, and bring me the answer before the sun sets.”

  The boy entered zealously into this project, and with a sincerity that left no doubt of his executing his commission with intelligence and promptitude. For a moment he forgot his love of honor, and all his clannish hostility to the British and their Indians, in his wish to have such a treasure in his tribe, and Deerslayer was satisfied with the impression he had made. It is true, the lad proposed to carry one of the elephants with him, as a specimen of the other, but to this his brother negotiator was too sagacious to consent; well knowing that it might never reach its destination if confided to such hands. This little difficulty was soon arranged, and the boy prepared to depart. As he stood on the platform ready to step aboard of the raft, he hesitated, and turned short with a proposal to borrow a canoe, as the means most likely to shorten the negotiation. Deerslayer quietly refused the request, and, after lingering a little longer, the boy rowed slowly away from the castle, taking the direction of a thicket on the shore, that lay less than half a mile distant.3 Deerslayer seated himself on a stool, and watched the progress of the ambassador; sometimes scanning the whole line of the shore, as far as eye could reach, and then placing an elbow on a knee, he remained a long time with his chin resting on the hand.

  During the interview between Deerslayer and the lad, a different scene took place in the adjoining room. Hetty had inquired for the Delaware, and being told why and where he remained concealed, she joined him. The reception which Chingachgook gave his visitor was respectful and gentle. He understood her character; and, no doubt, his disposition to be kind to such a being was increased by the hope of learning some tidings of his betrothed. As soon as the girl entered she took a seat, and invited the Indian to place himself near her; then she continued silent, as if she thought it decorous for him to question her, before she consented to speak on the subject she had on her mind. But, as Chingachgook did not understand this feeling, he remained respectfully attentive to anything she might be pleased to tell him.

  “You are Chingachgook—the Great Serpent of the Delawares, aren’t you?” the girl at length commenced, in her own simple way, losing her self-command in the desire to proceed, but anxious first to make sure of the individual.

  “Chingachgook,” returned the Delaware, with grave dignity. “They say Great Serpent in Deerslayer tongue.”

  “Well, that is my tongue. Deerslayer, and father, and Judith, and I, and poor Hurry Harry—do you know Henry March, Great Serpent? I know you don’t, however, or he would have spoken of you, too.”

  “Did any tongue name Chingachgook, Drooping Lily?” for so the chief had named poor Hetty. “Was his name sung by a little bird among the Iroquois?”

  Hetty did not answer at first; but with that indescribable feeling that awakens sympathy and intelligence among the youthful and unpracticed of her sex, she hung her head, and the blood suffused her cheek ere she found her tongue. It would have exceeded her stock of intelligence to explain this embarrassment; but though poor Hetty could not reason on every emergency, she could always feel. The color slowly receded from her cheek, and the girl looked up archly at the Indian, smiling with the innocence of a child, mingled with the interest of a woman.

  “My sister, the Drooping Lily, hear such bird!” Chingachgook added, and this with a gentleness of tone and manner that would have astonished those who sometimes heard the discordant cries that often came from the same throat; these transitions from the harsh and guttural to the soft and melodious not being infrequent in ordinary Indian dialogues. “My sister’s ears were open—has she lost her tongue?”

  “You are Chingachgook—you must be; for there is no other redman here, and she thought Chingachgook would come.”

  “Chin-gach-gook,” pronouncing the name slowly, and dwelling on each syllable; “Great Serpent, Yengeesei tongue.”

  “Chin-gach-gook,” repeated Hetty, in the same deliberate manner. �
��Yes, so Hist called it, and you must be the chief.”

  “Wah-ta-Wah,” added the Delaware.

  “Wah-ta-Wah, or Hist-oh-Hist. I think Hist prettier than Wah, and so I call her Hist.”

  “Wah very sweet in Delaware ears!”

  “You make it sound differently from me. But never mind; I did hear the bird you speak of sing, Great Serpent.”

  “Will my sister say words of song? What she sing most—how she look—often she laugh?”

  “She sang Chin-gach-gook oftener than anything else; and she laughed heartily when I told how the Iroquois waded into the water after us, and couldn’t catch us. I hope these logs haven’t ears, Serpent!”

  “No fear logs; fear sister next room. No fear Iroquois; Deerslayer stuff his eyes and ears with strange beast.”

  “I understand you, Serpent and I understood Hist. Sometimes I think I’m not half as feebleminded as they say I am. Now, do you look up at the roof, and I’ll tell you all. But you frighten me, you look so eager when I speak of Hist.”

  The Indian controlled his looks, and affected to comply with the simple request of the girl.

  “Hist told me to say, in a very low voice, that you mustn’t trust the Iroquois in anything. They are more artful than any Indians she knows. Then she says that there is a large bright star that comes over the hill, about an hour after dark“—Hist had pointed out the planet Jupiter, without knowing it—“and just as that star comes in sight, she will be on the point where I landed last night, and that you must come for her, in a canoe.”

  “Good! Chingachgook understand well enough now, but he understand better if my sister sing to him ag’in.”

  Hetty repeated her words, more fully explaining what star was meant, and mentioning the part of the point where he was to venture ashore. She now proceeded in her own unsophisticated way to relate her intercourse with the Indian maid, and to repeat several of her expressions and opinions that gave great delight to the heart of her betrothed. She particularly renewed her injunctions to be on their guard against treachery; a warning that was scarcely needed, however, as addressed to men as wary as those to whom it was sent. She also explained, with sufficient clearness—for on all such subjects the mind of the girl seldom failed her—the present state of the enemy, and the movements they had made since morning. Hist had been on the raft with her, until it quitted the shore; and was now somewhere in the woods, opposite to the castle, and did not intend to return to the camp until night approached; when she hoped to be able to slip away from her companions, as they followed the shore on their way home, and conceal herself on the point. No one appeared to suspect the presence of Chingachgook, though it was necessarily known that an Indian had entered the ark the previous night, and it was suspected that he had since appeared in and about the castle, in the dress of a paleface. Still, some little doubt existed on the latter point, for as this was the season when white men might be expected to arrive, there was some fear that the garrison of the castle was increasing by these ordinary means. All this had Hist communicated to Hetty while the Indians were dragging them along shore; the distance, which exceeded six miles, affording abundance of time.