Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by James Fenimore Cooper

  Deerslayer watched all the movements of Hutter and Harry with jealous attention. At first he did not know whether to ascribe the course they held to accident or to design; but he now began to suspect the latter. Familiar as Hutter was with the lake, it was easy to deceive one who had little practice on the water; and let his intentions be what they might, it was evident, ere two hours had elapsed, that the ark had got over sufficient space to be within a hundred rods of the shore, directly abreast of the known position of the camp. For a considerable time previously to reaching this point, Hurry, who had some knowledge of the Algonquin language, had been in close conference with the Indian, and the result was now announced by the latter to Deerslayer, who had been a cold, not to say distrusted looker-on of all that passed.

  “My old father and my young brother, the Big Pine”—for so the Delaware had named March—“want to see Huron scalps at their belts,” said Chingachgook to his friend. “There is room for some on the girdle of the Serpent, and his people will look for them when he goes back to his village. Their eyes must not be left long in a fog, but they must see what they look for. I know that my brother has a white hand; he will not strike even the dead. He will wait for us; when we come back he will not hide his face from shame for his friend. The great Serpent of the Mohicans must be worthy to go on the warpath with Hawkeye.”

  “Ay, ay, Sarpent, I see how it is; that name’s to stick, and in time, I shall get to be known by it instead of Deerslayer; well, if such honors will come, the humblest of us all must be willing to abide by ‘em. As for you looking for scalps, it belongs to your gifts, and I see no harm in it. Be marciful, Sarpent, howsever; be marciful, I beseech of you. It surely can do no harm to a redskin’s honor to show a little marcy As for the old man, the father of two women, who might ripen better feelin’s in his heart, and Harry March here, who, pine as he is, might better bear the fruit of a more Christianized tree, as for them two, I leave them in the hands of the white man’s God. Wasn’t it for the bloody sticks, no man should go ag’in the Mingos this night, seein’ that it would dishonor our faith and characters; but them that crave blood can’t complain if blood is shed at their call. Still, Sarpent, you can be marciful. Don’t begin your career with the wails of women and the cries of children. Bear yourself so that Hist will smile, and not weep, when she meets you. Go, then; and the Manitou presarve you!”

  “My brother will stay here with the scow. Wah will soon be standing on the shore waiting, and Chingachgook must hasten.”

  The Indian then joined his two coadventurers, and first lowering the sail, they all three entered the canoe, and left the side of the ark. Neither Hutter nor March spoke to Deerslayer concerning their object, or the probable length of their absence. All this had been confided to the Indian, who had acquitted himself of the trust with characteristic brevity. As soon as the canoe was out of sight, and that occurred ere the paddles had given a dozen strokes, Deerslayer made the best dispositions he could to keep the ark as nearly stationary as possible; and then he sat down in the end of the scow, to chew the cud of his own bitter reflections. It was not long, however, before he was joined by Judith, who sought every occasion to be near him, managing her attack on his affections with the address that was suggested by native coquetry, aided by no little practice, but which received much of its most dangerous power from the touch of feeling that threw around her manner, voice, accents, thoughts, and acts, the indescribable witchery of natural tenderness. Leaving the young hunter exposed to these dangerous assailants, it has become our more immediate business to follow the party in the canoe to the shore.

  The controlling influence that led Hutter and Hurry to repeat their experiment against the camp was precisely that which had induced the first attempt, a little heightened, perhaps, by the desire of revenge. But neither of these two rude beings, so ruthless in all things that touched the rights and interests of the redman, though possessing veins of human feeling on other matters, was much actuated by any other desire than a heartless longing for profit. Hurry had felt angered at his sufferings, when first liberated, it is true, but that emotion soon disappeared in the habitual love of gold, which he sought with the reckless avidity of a needy spendthrift, rather than with the ceaseless longings of a miser. In short, the motive that urged them both so soon to go against the Hurons, was an habitual contempt of their enemy, acting on the unceasing cupidity of prodigality The additional chances of success, however, had their place in the formation of the second enterprise. It was known that a large portion of the warriors—perhaps all—were encamped for the night abreast of the castle, and it was hoped that the scalps of helpless victims would be the consequence. To confess the truth, Hutter in particular—he who had just left two daughters behind him—expected to find few besides women and children in the camp. This fact had been but slightly alluded to in his communications with Hurry,1 and with Chingachgook it had been kept entirely out of view. If the Indian thought of it at all, it was known only to himself.

  Hutter steered the canoe; Hurry had manfully taken his post in the bows, and Chingachgook stood in the center. We say stood, for all three were so skilled in the management of that species of frail bark, as to be able to keep erect positions in the midst of the darkness. The approach to the shore was made with great caution, and the landing effected in safety. The three now prepared their arms, and began their tigerlike approach upon the camp. The Indian was on the lead, his two companions treading in his footsteps with a stealthy cautiousness of manner that rendered their progress almost literally noiseless. Occasionally a dried twig snapped under the heavy weight of the gigantic Hurry, or the blundering clumsiness of the old man; but, had the Indian walked on air, his step could not have seemed lighter. The great object was first to discover the position of the fire, which was known to be the center of the whole encampment. At length the keen eye of Chingachgook caught a glimpse of this important guide. It was glimmering at a distance among the trunks of trees. There was no blaze, but merely a single smoldering brand, as suited the hour; the savages usually retiring and rising with the revolutions of the sun.

  As soon as a view was obtained of this beacon, the progress of the adventurers became swifter and more certain. In a few minutes they got to the edge of the circle of little huts. Here they stopped to survey their ground, and to concert their movements. The darkness was so deep as to render it difficult to distinguish anything but the glowing brand, the trunks of the nearest trees, and the endless canopy of leaves that veiled the clouded heaven. It was ascertained, however, that a hut was quite near, and Chingachgook attempted to reconnoitre its interior. The manner in which the Indian approached the place that was supposed to contain enemies, resembled the wily advances of the cat on the bird. As he drew near, he stooped to his hands and knees, for the entrance was so low as to require this attitude, even as a convenience. Before trusting his head inside, however, he listened long to catch the breathing of sleepers. No sound was audible, and this human Serpent thrust his head in at the door, or opening, as another serpent would have peered in on the nest. Nothing rewarded the hazardous experiment; for, after feeling cautiously with a hand, the place was found to be empty.

  The Delaware proceeded in the same guarded manner to one or two more of the huts, finding all in the same situation. He then returned to his companions, and informed them that the Hurons had deserted their camp. A little further inquiry corroborated this fact, and it only remained to return to the canoe. The different manner in which the adventurers bore the disappointment is worthy of a passing remark. The chief, who had landed solely with the hope of acquiring renown, stood stationary, leaning against a tree, waiting the pleasure of his companions. He was mortified, and a little surprised, it is true; but he bore all with dignity, falling back for support on the sweeter expectations that still lay in reserve for that evening. It was true, he could not now hope to meet his mistress with the proofs of his daring and skill on his person, but he might still hope to meet her; and the warrior, who was
zealous in the search, might always hope to be honored. On the other hand, Hutter and Hurry, who had been chiefly instigated by the basest of all human motives, the thirst of gain, could scarce control their feelings. They went prowling among the huts, as if they expected to find some forgotten child or careless sleeper; and again and again did they vent their spite on the insensible huts, several of which were actually torn to pieces, and scattered about the place. Nay, they even quarreled with each other, and fierce reproaches passed between them. It is possible some serious consequences might have occurred, had not the Delaware interfered to remind them of the danger of being so unguarded, and of the necessity of returning to the ark. This checked the dispute, and in a few minutes they were paddling sullenly back to the spot where they hoped to find that vessel.

  It has been said that Judith took her place at the side of Deerslayer, soon after the adventurers departed. For a short time the girl was silent, and the hunter was ignorant which of the sisters had approached him; but he soon recognized the rich, full-spirited voice of the elder, as her feelings escaped in words.

  “This is a terrible life for women, Deerslayer!” she exclaimed. “Would to Heaven I could see an end of it!”

  “The life is well enough, Judith,” was the answer, “being pretty much as it is used or abused. What would you wish to see in its place?”

  “I should be a thousand times happier to live nearer to civilized beings—where there are farms and churches, and houses built as it might be by Christian hands; and where my sleep at night would be sweet and tranquil! A dwelling near one of the forts would be far better than this dreary place where we live!”

  “Nay, Judith, I can’t agree too lightly in the truth of all this. If forts are good to keep off inimies, they sometimes hold inimies of their own. I don’t think ‘twould be for your good, or the good of Hetty, to live near one; and if I must say what I think, I’m afeard you are a little too near as it is.” Deerslayer went on, in his own steady, earnest manner, for the darkness concealed the tints that colored the cheeks of the girl almost to the brightness of crimson, while her own great efforts suppressed the sounds of the breathing that nearly choked her. “As for farms, they have their uses, and there’s them that like to pass their lives on ’em; but what comfort can a man look for in a clearin‘, that he can’t find in double quantities in the forest? If air, and room, and light, are a little craved, the windrows and the streams will furnish ’em, or here are the lakes for such as have bigger longings in that way; but where are you to find your shades, and laughing springs, and leaping brooks, and vinerable trees, a thousand years old, in a clearin’? You don’t find them, but you find their disabled trunks, marking the ’arth like headstones in a graveyard. It seems to me that the people who live in such places must be always thinkin’ of their own inds, and of universal decay; and that, too, not of the decay that is brought about by time and natur‘, but the decay that follows waste and violence. Then as to churches, they are good, I suppose, else wouldn’t good men uphold ’em. But they are not altogether necessary They call ‘em the temples of the Lord; but, Judith, the whole ’arth is a temple of the Lord to such as have the right mind. Neither forts nor churches make people happier of themselves. Moreover, all is contradiction in the settlements, while all is concord in the woods. Forts and churches almost always go together, and yet they’re downright contradictions; churches being for peace, and forts for war. No, no—give me the strong places of the wilderness, which is the trees, and the churches, too, which are arbors raised by the hand of natur’ .”

  “Woman is not made for scenes like these, Deerslayer, scenes of which we shall have no end, as long as this war lasts.”

  “If you mean women of white color, I rather think you’re not far from the truth, gal; but as for the females of the redmen, such visitations are quite in character. Nothing would make Hist, now, the bargained wife of yonder Delaware, happier than to know that he is at this moment prowling around his nat’ral inimies, striving after a scalp.”

  “Surely, surely, Deerslayer, she cannot be a woman, and not feel concern when she thinks the man she loves is in danger!”

  “She doesn’t think of the danger, Judith, but of the honor; and when the heart is desperately set on such feelin‘s, why there is little room to crowd in fear. Hist is a kind, gentle, laughing, pleasant creatur’, but she loves honor, as well as any Delaware gal I ever know’d. She’s to meet the Sarpent an hour hence, on the p’int where Hetty landed, and no doubt she has her anxiety about it, like any other woman; but she’d be all the happier did she know that her lover was at this moment waylaying a Mingo for his scalp.”

  “If you really believe this, Deerslayer, no wonder you lay so much stress on gifts. Certain am I, that no white girl could feel anything but misery while she believed her betrothed in danger of his life! Nor do I suppose even you, unmoved and calm as you ever seem to be, could be at peace if you believed your Hist in danger.”

  “That’s a different matter—’tis altogether a different matter, Judith. Woman is too weak and gentle to be intended to run such risks, and man must feel for her. Yes, I rather think that’s as much red natur’ as it’s white. But I have no Hist, nor am I like to have; for I hold it wrong to mix colors, any way except in friendship and sarvices.”

  “In that you are and feel as a white man should! As for Hurry Harry, I do think it would be all the same to him whether his wife were a squaw or a governor’s daughter, provided she was a little comely, and could help to keep his craving stomach full.”

  “You do March injustice, Judith; yes, you do. The poor fellow dotes on you, and when a man has ra‘ally set his heart on such a creatur’ it isn’t a Mingo, or even a Delaware gal, that’ll be likely to unsettle his mind. You may laugh at such men as Hurry and I, for we’re rough and unteached in the ways of books and other knowledge; but we’ve our good p’ints, as well as our bad ones. An honest heart is not to be despised, gal, even though it be not varsed in all the niceties that please the female fancy.”

  “You, Deerslayer! And do you—can you, for an instant, suppose I place you by the side of Harry March? No, no, I am not so far gone in dullness as that. No one—man or woman—could think of naming your honest heart, manly nature, and simple truth, with the boisterous selfishness, greedy avarice, and overbearing ferocity of Henry March. The very best that can be said of him, is to be found in his name of Hurry Skurry, which, if it means no great harm, means no great good. Even my father, following his feelings with the other, as he is doing at this moment, well knows the difference between you. This I know, for he said as much to me, in plain language.”

  Judith was a girl of quick sensibilities and of impetuous feelings; and, being under few of the restraints that curtail the manifestations of maiden emotions among those who are educated in the habits of civilized life, she sometimes betrayed the latter with a feeling that was so purely natural as to place it as far above the wiles of coquetry as it was superior to its heartlessness. She had now even taken one of the hard hands of the hunter and pressed it between both her own, with a warmth and earnestness that proved how sincere was her language. It was perhaps fortunate that she was checked by the very excess of her feelings, since the same power might have urged her on to avow all that her father had said—the old man not having been satisfied with making a comparison favorable to Deerslayer, as between the hunter and Hurry, but having actually, in his blunt rough way, briefly advised his daughter to cast off the latter entirely, and to think of the former as a husband. Judith would not willingly have said this to any other man, but there was so much confidence awakened by the guileless simplicity of Deerslayer, that one of her nature found it a constant temptation to overstep the bounds of habit. She went no further, however, immediately relinquishing the hand, and falling back on a reserve that was more suited to her sex, and, indeed, to her natural modesty.

  “Thankee, Judith, thankee with all my heart,” returned the hunter, whose humility prevented him from placing an
y flattering interpretation on either the conduct or the language of the girl. “Thankee as much as if it was all true. Harry’s sightly—yes, he’s as sightly as the tallest pine of the mountains, and the Sarpent has named him accordingly; howsever, some fancy good looks, and some fancy good conduct, only. Hurry has one advantage, and it depends on himself whether he’ll have t’other or—Hark! that’s your father’s voice, gal, and he speaks like a man who’s riled at something.”

  “God save us from any more of these horrible scenes!” exclaimed Judith, bending her face to her knees, and endeavoring to exclude the discordant sounds, by applying her hands to her ears. “I sometimes wish I had no father!”

  This was bitterly said, and the repinings which extorted the words were bitterly felt. It is impossible to say what might next have escaped her had not a gentle, low voice spoken at her elbow.

  “Judith, I ought to have read a chapter to father and Hurry!” said the innocent but terrified speaker, “and that would have kept them from going again on such an errand. Do you call to them, Deerslayer, and tell them I want them, and that it will be good for them both if they’ll return and hearken to my words.”

  “Ah’s me! poor Hetty, you little know the cravin’s for gold and revenge, if you believe they are so easily turned aside from their longin’s! But this is an uncommon business in more ways than one, Judith. I hear your father and Hurry growling like bears, and yet no noise comes from the mouth of the young chief. There’s an ind of secrecy, and yet his whoop, which ought to ring in the mountains, accordin’ to rule in such sarcumstances, is silent!”