“Well, well, Rivenoak—for so I hear ‘em tarm you—this is plain English enough, though spoken in Iroquois. I understand all you mean, now, and must say it out-devils even Mingo deviltry! No doubt, ’twould be easy enough to go back and tell the Muskrat that I had got away from you, and gain some credit, too, by the expl’ite.”
“Good! that is what I want the paleface to do.”
“Yes—yes—that’s plain enough. I know what you want me to do, without more words. When inside the house, and eating the Muskrat’s bread, and laughing and talking with his pretty darters, I might put his eyes into so thick a fog, that he couldn’t even see the door, much less the land.”
“Good! Hawkeye should have been born a Huron! His blood is not more than half white!”
“There you’re out, Huron; yes there you’re as much out, as if you mistook a wolf for a catamount. I’m white in blood, heart, natur‘, and gifts, though a little redskin in feelin’s and habits. But when old Hutter’s eyes are well befogged, and his pretty darters, perhaps, in a deep sleep, and Hurry Harry, the Great Pine, as you Indians tarm him, is dreaming of anything but mischief, and all suppose Hawkeye is acting as a faithful sentinel, all I have to do is, to set a torch somewhere in sight for a signal, open the door, and let in the Hurons to knock ’em all on the head.”
“Surely my brother is mistaken; he cannot be white! He is worthy to be a great chief among the Hurons!”
“That is true enough, I dare to say, if he could do all this. Now, harkee, Huron, and for once hear a few honest words from the mouth of a plain man. I am a Christian born, and them that come of such a stock, and that listen to the words that were spoken to their fathers, and will be spoken to their children, until ‘arth and all it holds perishes, can never lend themselves to such wickedness. Sarcumventions in war may be, and are lawful; but sarcumventions, and deceit, and treachery, among fri’nds, are fit only for the paleface devils. I know that there are white men enough to give you this wrong idee of our natur’, but such are ontrue to their blood and gifts, and ought to be, if they are not, outcasts and vagabonds. No upright paleface could do what you wish, and to be as plain with you as I wish to be, in my judgment no upright Delaware either; with a Mingo it may be different.”1
The Huron listened to his rebuke with obvious disgust; but he had his ends in view, and was too wily to lose all chance of effecting them by a precipitate avowal of resentment. Affecting to smile, he seemed to listen eagerly, and he then pondered on what he had heard.
“Does Hawkeye love the Muskrat?” he abruptly demanded; “or does he love his daughters?”
“Neither, Mingo. Old Tom is not a man to gain my love; and as for the darters, they are comely enough to gain the liking of any young man; but there’s reason ag’in any very great love for either. Hetty is a good soul, but natur’ has laid a heavy hand on her mind, poor thing!”
“And the Wild Rose!” exclaimed the Huron—for the fame of Judith’s beauty had spread among those who could travel the wilderness as well as the highway, by means of old eagles’ nests, rocks, and riven trees, known to them by report and tradition, as well as among the white borderers—“And the Wild Rose; is she not sweet enough to be put in the bosom of my brother?”
Deerslayer had far too much of the innate gentleman to insinuate aught against the fair fame of one who, by nature and position, was so helpless; and as he did not choose to utter an untruth, he preferred being silent. The Huron mistook the motive, and supposed that disappointed affection lay at the bottom of his reserve. Still bent on corrupting or bribing his captive, in order to obtain possession of the treasures with which his imagination filled the castle, he persevered in his attack.
“Hawkeye is talking with a friend,” he continued. “He knows that Rivenoak is a man of his word, for they have traded together, and trade opens the soul. My friend has come here on account of a little string held by a girl, that can pull the whole body of the stoutest warrior?”
“You are nearer the truth now, Huron, than you’ve been afore, since we began to talk. This is true. But one end of that string was not fast to my heart, nor did the Wild Rose hold the other.”
“This is wonderful! Does my brother love in his head, and not in his heart? And can the Feeble-Mind pull so hard against so stout a warrior?”
“There it is ag‘in; sometimes right and sometimes wrong! The string you mean is fast to the heart of a great Delaware; one of the Mohican stock in fact, living among the Delawares since the dispersion of his own people, and of the family of Uncas—Chingachgook by name, or Great Sarpent. He has come here, led by the string, and I’ve followed, or rather come afore, for I got here first, pulled by nothing stronger than fri’ndship; which is strong enough for such as are not niggardly of their feelin‘s, and are willing to live a little for their fellow creatur’s, as well as for themselves.”
“But a string has two ends—one is fast to the mind of a Mohican, and the other—?”
“Why the other was here close to the fire, half an hour since. Wah-ta-Wah held it in her hand, if she didn’t hold it to her heart.”
“I understand what you mean, my brother,” returned the Indian gravely, for the first time catching a direct clue to the adventures of the evening. “The Great Serpent being strongest, pulled the hardest, and Hist was forced to leave us.”
“I don’t think there was much pulling about it,” answered the other, laughing, always in his silent manner, with as much heartiness as if he were not a captive, and in danger of torture or death. “I don’t think there was much pulling about it; no, I don’t. Lord help you, Huron! he likes the gal, and the gal likes him, and it surpassed Huron sarcumventions to keep two young people apart when there was so strong a feelin’ to bring ’em together.”
“And Hawkeye and Chingachgook came into our camp on this errand only?”
“That’s a question that’ll answer itself, Mingo! Yes, if a question could talk, it would answer itself to your perfect satisfaction. For what else should we come? And yet, it isn’t exactly so, neither; for we didn’t come into your camp at all, but only as far as that pine, there, that you see on the other side of the ridge, where we stood watching your movements and conduct as long as we liked. When we were ready the Sarpent gave his signal, and then all went just as it should, down to the moment when yonder vagabond leaped upon my back. Sartain; we came for that and no other purpose, and we got what we came for, there’s no use in pretending otherwise. Hist is off with a man who’s the next thing to her husband, and come what will to me, that’s one good thing detarmined.”
“What sign or signal told the young maiden that her lover was nigh?” asked the old Huron, with more curiosity than it was usual for him to betray.
Deerslayer laughed again, and seemed to enjoy the success of the exploit with as much glee as if he had not been its victim.
“Your squirrels are great gadabouts, Mingo!” he cried, still laughing—“yes, they’re sartainly great gadabouts! When other folks’ squirrels are at home and asleep, your’n keep in motion among the trees, and chirrup and sing in a way that even a Delaware girl can understand their music! Well, there’s four-legged squirrels, and there’s two-legged squirrels, and give me the last, when there’s a good tight string atween two hearts. If one brings ‘em together, t’other tells when to pull the hardest.”
The Huron looked vexed, though he succeeded in suppressing any violent exhibition of resentment. He soon quitted his prisoner, and joining the rest of his warriors, he communicated the substance of what he had learned. As in his own case admiration was mingled with anger at the boldness and success of their enemies. Three or four of them ascended the little acclivity and gazed at the tree where it was understood the adventurers had posted themselves, and one even descended and examined for footprints around its roots, in order to make sure that the statement was true. The result confirmed the story of the captive, and they all returned to the fire with increased wonder and respect. The messenger, who had arrived with som
e communication from the party above while the two adventurers were watching the camp, was now dispatched with some answer, and doubtless bore with him the intelligence of all that had happened.2
Down to this moment, the young Indian who had been seen walking in company with Hist and another female, had made no advances to any communication with Deerslayer. He had held himself aloof from his friends even, passing near the bevy of younger women who were clustering together, apart as usual, and conversed in low tones on the subject of the escape of their late companion. Perhaps it would be true to say, that these last were pleased as well as vexed at what had just occurred. Their female sympathies were with the lovers, while their pride was bound up in the success of their own tribe. It is possible, too, that the superior personal advantages of Hist rendered her dangerous to some of the younger part of the group, and they were not sorry to find she was no longer in the way of their own ascendency. On the whole, however, the better feeling was most prevalent; for neither the wild condition in which they lived, the clannish prejudices of tribes, nor their hard fortunes as Indian women, could entirely conquer the inextinguishable leaning of their sex to the affections. One of the girls even laughed at the disconsolate look of the swain who might fancy himself deserted, a circumstance that seemed suddenly to arouse his energies, and induced him to move towards the log on which the prisoner was still seated, drying his clothes.
“This is Catamount!” said the Indian, striking his hand boastfully on his naked breast as he uttered the words, in a manner to show how much weight he expected them to carry
“This is Hawkeye,” quietly returned Deerslayer, adopting the name by which he knew he would be known in future among all the tribes of the Iroquois. “My sight is keen; is my brother’s leap long?”
“From here to the Delaware villages. Hawkeye has stolen my wife; he must bring her back, or his scalp will hang on a pole and dry in my wigwam.”
“Hawkeye has stolen nothing, Huron. He doesn’t come of a thieving breed, nor has he thieving gifts. Your wife, as you call Wah-ta-Wah, will never be the wife of any redskin of the Canadas; her mind is in the cabin of a Delaware, and her body has gone to find it. The catamount is actyve, I know; but its legs can’t keep pace with a woman’s wishes.”
“The Serpent of the Delawares is a dog; he is a poor bullpout that keeps in the water; he is afraid to stand on the hard earth like a brave Indian! ”
“Well, well, Huron, that’s pretty impudent, considering it’s not an hour since the Sarpent stood within a hundred feet of you, and would have tried the toughness of your skin with a rifle bullet, when I pointed you out to him, hadn’t I laid the weight of a little judgment on his hand. You may take in timersome gals in the settlements with your catamount whine; but the ears of a man can tell truth from ontruth.”
“Hist laughs at him! She sees he is lame, and a poor hunter, and he has never been on a warpath. She will take a man for a husband, and not a fool.”
“How do you know that, Catamount? how do you know that?” returned Deerslayer, laughing. “She has gone into the lake, you see, and maybe she prefers a trout to a mongrel cat. As for warpaths, neither the Sarpent nor I have much exper‘ence, we are ready to own; but if you don’t call this one, you must tarm it what the gals in the settlements tarm it, the high road to matrimony. Take my advice, Catamount, and s’arch for a wife among the Huron women; you’ll never get one with a willing mind from among the Delawares.”
Catamount’s hand felt for his tomahawk, and when the fingers reached the handle they worked convulsively, as if their owner hesitated between policy and resentment. At this critical moment Rivenoak approached, and, by a gesture of authority, induced the young man to retire, assuming his former position, himself on the log at the side of Deerslayer. Here he continued silent for a little time, maintaining the grave reserve of an Indian chief
“Hawkeye is right,” the Iroquois at length began; “his sight is so strong that he can see truth in a dark night, and our eyes have been blinded. He is an owl, darkness hiding nothing from him. He ought not to strike his friends. He is right.”
“I’m glad you think so, Mingo,” returned the other, “for a traitor, in my judgment, is worse than a coward. I care as little for the Muskrat as one paleface ought to care for another; but I care too much for him to ambush him in the way you wished. In short, according to my idees, any sarcumvention, except open-war sarcumventions, are ag‘in both law, and what we whites call 'gospel,’ too.”
“My paleface brother is right; he is no Indian to forget his Manitou and his color. The Hurons know that they have a great warrior for their prisoner, and they will treat him as one. If he is to be tortured, his torments shall be such as no common man can bear; if he is to be treated as a friend, it will be the friendship of chiefs.”
As the Huron uttered this extraordinary assurance of consideration his eye furtively glanced at the countenance of his listener, in order to discover how he stood the compliment; though his gravity and apparent sincerity would have prevented any man but one practiced in artifices, from detecting his motives. Deerslayer belonged to the class of the unsuspicious; and acquainted with the Indian notions of what constituted respect, in matters connected with the treatment of captives, he felt his blood chill at the announcement, even while he maintained an aspect so steeled that his quick-sighted enemy could discover in it no sign of weakness.
“God has put me in your hands, Huron,” the captive at length answered, “and I suppose you will act your will on me. I shall not boast of what I can do, under torment, for I’ve never been tried, and no man can say till he has been; but I’ll do my endivors not to disgrace the people among whom I got my training. Howsever, I wish you now to bear witness, that I’m altogether of white blood, and, in a nat’ral way, of white gifts, too; so, should I be overcome and forget myself, I hope you’ll lay the fault where it properly belongs; and in no manner put it on the Delawares, or their allies and friends the Mohicans. We’re all created with more or less weakness, and I’m afeard it’s a paleface’s to give in under great bodily torment, when a redskin will sing his songs, and boast of his deeds in the very teeth of his foes!”
“We shall see. Hawkeye has a good countenance, and he is tough—but why should he be tormented when the Hurons love him? He is not born their enemy; and the death of one warrior will not cast a cloud between them forever.”
“So much the better, Huron; so much the better. Still, I don’t wish to owe anything to a mistake about each other’s meaning. It is so much the better that you bear no malice for the loss of a warrior who fell in war; and yet it is ontrue that there is no inmity—lawful inmity, I mean, atween us. So far as I have redskin feelin’s at all, I’ve Delaware feelin’s; and I leave you to judge for yourself, how far they are likely to be fri’ndly to the Mingos—”
Deerslayer ceased, for a sort of specter stood before him that put a stop to his words, and, indeed, caused him for a moment to doubt the fidelity of his boasted vision. Hetty Hutter was standing at the side of the fire, as quietly as if she belonged to the tribe.
As the hunter and the Indian sat watching the emotions that were betrayed in each other’s countenance the girl had approached unnoticed, doubtless ascending the beach on the southern side of the point, or that next to the spot where the ark had anchored, and had advanced to the fire with the fearlessness that belonged to her simplicity, and which was certainly justified by the treatment formerly received from the Indians. As soon as Rivenoak perceived the girl she was recognized, and calling to two or three of the young warriors, the chief sent them out to reconnoitre, lest her appearance should be the forerunner of another attack. He then motioned to Hetty to draw near.
“I hope your visit is a sign that the Sarpent and Hist are in safety, Hetty,” said Deerslayer, as soon as the girl had complied with the Huron’s request. “I don’t think you’d come ashore ag‘in on the arr’nd that brought you here afore.”
“Judith told me to come this time, Deerslaye
r,” Hetty replied; “she paddled me ashore herself, in a canoe, as soon as the Serpent had shown her Hist, and told his story. How handsome Hist is tonight, Deerslayer, and how much happier she looks than when she was with the Hurons!”
“That’s natur‘, gal; yes, that may be set down as human natur’. She’s with her betrothed, and no longer fears a Mingo husband. In my judgment, Judith herself would lose most of her beauty if she thought she was to bestow it all on a Mingo! Content is a great fortifier of good looks; and I’ll warrant you, Hist is contented enough now she is out of the hands of these miscreants and with her chosen warrior! Did you say that your sister told you to come ashore—why should Judith do that?”
“She bid me come to see you, and to try and persuade the savages to take more elephants to let you off; but I’ve brought the Bible with me—that will do more than all the elephants in father’s chest!”
“And your father, good little Hetty—and Hurry; did they know of your arr’nd?”
“Nothing. Both are asleep; and Judith and the Serpent thought it best they should not be woke, lest they might want to come again after scalps, when Hist had told them how few warriors, and how many women and children there were in the camp, Judith would give me no peace till I had come ashore, to see what had happened to you.”
“Well, that’s remarkable as consarns Judith! Why should she feel so much unsartainty about me? Ah, I see how it is now; yes, I see into the whole matter now. You must understand, Hetty, that your sister is oneasy lest Harry March should wake, and come blundering here into the hands of the inimy ag’in, under some idee that, being a traveling comrade, he ought to help me in this matter! Hurry is a blunderer, I will allow; but I don’t think he’d risk as much for my sake as he would for his own.”
Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 38