Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by James Fenimore Cooper

  “The Lord bless and protect you! Chief, this is downright madness. Can either or both of you alter a Mingo natur’ ? Will your grand looks or Hist’s tears and beauty, change a wolf into a squirrel, or make a catamount as innocent as a fa‘an! No, Sarpent, you will think better of this matter, and leave me in the hands of God. A’ter all, it’s by no means sartain that the scamps design the torments, for they may yet be pitiful, and bethink them of the wickedness of such a course; though it is but a hopeless expectation to look forward to a Mingo’s turning aside from evil, and letting marcy get uppermost in his heart. Nevertheless, no one knows to a sartainty what will happen; and young creatur‘s, like Hist, aren’t to be risked on unsartainties. This marrying is altogether a different undertaking from what some young men fancy. Now, if you was single, or as good as single, Delaware, I should expect you to be actyve and stirring about the camp of the vagabonds, from sunrise to sunset, sarcumventing, and contriving, as restless as a hound off the scent, and doing all manner of things to help me, and to distract the inimy; but two are often feebler than one, and we must take things as they are, and not as we want ’em to be.”

  “Listen, Deerslayer,” returned the Indian, with an emphasis so decided, as to show how much he was in earnest. “If Chingachgook was in the hands of the Hurons, what would my paleface brother do? Sneak off to the Delaware villages, and say to the chiefs, and old men, and young warriors—‘See! here is Wah-ta-Wah; she is safe, but a little tired; and here is the Son of Uncas, not as tired as the Honeysuckle, being stronger, but just as safe.’ Would he do this?”

  “Well, that’s oncommon ingen‘ous; it’s cunning enough for a Mingo himself The Lord only knows what put it into your head to ask such a question. What would I do? Why, in the first place, Hist wouldn’t be likely to be in my company at all, for she would stay as near you as possible, and therefore all that part about her couldn’t be said without talking nonsense. As for her being tired, that would fall through too, if she didn’t go, and no part of your speech would be likely to come from me; so, you see, Sarpent, reason is ag’in you, and you may as well give it up, since to hold out ag’in reason is no way becoming a chief of your character and repitation.”

  “My brother is not himself; he forgets that he is talking to one who has sat at the council fires of his nation,” returned the other, kindly. “When men speak, they should say that which does not go in at one side of the head, and out at the other. Their words shouldn’t be feathers, so light that a wind, which does not ruffle the water, can blow them away. He has not answered my question; when a chief puts a question, his friend should not talk of other things.”

  “I understand you, Delaware; I understand well enough what you mean, and truth won’t allow me to say otherwise. Still, it’s not as easy to answer as you seem to think, for this plain reason. You wish me to say what I would do if I had a betrothed, as you have, here, on the lake, and a fri’nd yonder, in the Huron camp, in danger of the torments. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  The Indian bowed his head silently, and always with unmoved gravity, though his eye twinkled at the sight of the other’s embarrassment.

  “Well, I never had a betrothed; never had the kind of feelin’s towards any young woman that you have towards Hist; though the Lord knows my feelin’s kind enough towards ‘em all! Still, my heart, as they call it, in such matters isn’t touched, and therefore I can’t say what I would do. A fri’nd pulls strong; that I know by exper’ence, Sarpent; but, by all that I’ve seen and heard consarning love, I’m led to think that a betrothed pulls stronger.”

  “True; but the betrothed of Chingachgook does not pull towards the lodges of the Delawares; she pulls towards the camp of the Hurons.”

  “She’s a noble gal, for all her little feet and hands that ain’t bigger than a child’s, and a voice that’s as pleasant as a mocker’s; she’s a noble gal, and like the stock of her sires! Well, what is it, Sarpent? for I conclude she hasn’t changed her mind and means to give herself up, and turn Huron wife. What is it you want?”

  “Wah-ta-Wah will never live in the wigwam of an Iroquois,” answered the Delaware, dryly. “She has little feet, but they can carry her to the villages of her people; she has small hands, too, but her mind is large. My brother will see what we can do, when the time shall come, rather than let him die under Mingo torments.”

  “Attempt nothing heedlessly, Delaware,” said the other earnestly; “I suppose you must and will have your way; and, on the whole, it’s right you should; for you’d neither be happy unless something was undertaken. But attempt nothing heedlessly. I didn’t expect you’d quit the lake while my matter remained in unsartainty; but remember, Sarpent, that no torments that Mingo ingenuity can invent, no ta’ntings and revilings, no burnings and roastings and nail-tearings, nor any other onhuman contrivance, can so soon break down my spirit, as to find that you and Hist have fallen into the power of the inimy, in striving to do something for my good.”

  “The Delawares are prudent. The Deerslayer will not find them running into a strange camp with their eyes shut.”

  Here the dialogue terminated. Hetty announced that the breakfast was ready, and the whole party were soon seated around the simple board, in the usual primitive manner of borderers. Judith was the last to take her seat, pale, silent, and betraying in her countenance that she had passed a painful if not a sleepless night. At this meal scarce a syllable was exchanged, all the females manifesting want of appetite, though the two men were unchanged in this particular. It was early when the party arose, and there still remained several hours before it would be necessary for the prisoner to leave his friends. The knowledge of this circumstance, and the interest all felt in his welfare, induced the whole party to assemble on the platform again, in the desire to be near the expected victim, to listen to his discourse, and, if possible, to show their interest in him by anticipating his wishes. Deerslayer himself, so far as human eyes could penetrate, was wholly unmoved, conversing cheerfully and naturally, though he avoided any direct allusion to the expected and great event of the day. If any evidence could be discovered of his thoughts reverting to that painful subject at all, it was in the manner in which he spoke of death and the last great change.

  “Grieve not, Hetty,” he said; for it was while consoling this simpleminded girl for the loss of her parents that he thus betrayed his feelings; “since God has app‘inted that all must die. Your parents, or them you fancied your parents, which is the same thing, have gone afore you; this is only in the order of natur’, my good gal, for the aged go first, and the young follow. But one that had a mother like your‘n, Hetty, can be at no loss to hope the best as to how matters will turn out in another world. The Delaware here, and Hist, believe in happy hunting-grounds, and have idees befitting their notions and gifts as redskins; but we, who are of white blood, hold together to a different doctrine. Still, I rather conclude our heaven is their land of spirits, and that the path which leads to it will be traveled by all colors alike. ’Tis impossible for the wicked to enter on it, I will allow; but fri‘nds can scarce be separated, though they are not of the same race on ’arth. Keep up your spirits, poor Hetty, and look forward to the day when you will meet your mother ag’in, and that without pain or sorrowing.”

  “I do expect to see mother,” returned the truth-telling and simple girl, “but what will become of father?”

  “That’s a nonplusser, Delaware,” said the hunter in the Indian dialect; “yes, that is a downright nonplusser! The Muskrat was not a saint on ‘arth, and it’s fair to guess he’ll not be much of one hereafter! Howsever, Hetty”—dropping into the English by an easy transition—“howsever, Hetty, we must all hope for the best. That is wisest, and it is much the easiest to the mind, if one can only do it. I ricommend to you trusting to God, and putting down all misgivings and fainthearted feelin’s. It’s wonderful, Judith, how different people have different notions about the futur’, some fancying one change and some fancying another. I’ve known white teach
ers that have thought all was spirit hereafter; and them, ag‘in, that believe the body will be transported to another world, much as the redskins themselves imagine, and that we shall walk about in the flesh and know each other, and talk together, and be fri’nds there as we’ve been fri’nds here.”1

  “Which of these opinions is most pleasing to you, Deerslayer?” asked the girl, willing to indulge his melancholy mood, and far from being free from its influence herself. “Would it be disagreeable to think that you should meet all who are now on this platform in another world? Or have you known enough of us here, to be glad to see us no more?”

  “The last would make death a bitter portion; yes, it would. It’s eight good years since the Sarpent and I began to hunt together, and the thought that we were never to meet ag‘in would be a hard thought to me. He looks forward to the time when he shall chase a sort of spirit-deer, in company, on plains where there’s no thorns, or brambles, or marshes, or other hardships to overcome; whereas, I can’t fall into all these notions, seeing that they appear to be ag’in reason. Spirits can’t eat, nor have they any use for clothes; and deer can only rightfully be chased to be slain, or slain, unless it be for the venison or the hides. Now I find it hard to suppose that blessed spirits can be put to chasing game without an object, tormenting the dumb animals just for the pleasure and agreeableness of their own amusements. I never yet pulled a trigger on buck or doe, Judith, onless when food or clothes was wanting.”

  “The recollection of which, Deerslayer, must now be a great consolation to you.”

  “It is the thought of such things, my fri’nds, that enables a man to keep his furlough. It might be done without it, I own; for the worst redskins sometimes do their duty in this matter; but it makes that which might otherwise be hard, easy, if not altogether to our liking. Nothing truly makes a bolder heart than a light conscience.”

  Judith turned paler than ever, but she struggled for self command and succeeded in obtaining it. The conflict had been severe, however, and it left her so little disposed to speak, that Hetty pursued the subject. This was done in the simple manner natural to the girl.

  “It would be cruel to kill the poor deer,” she said, “in this world or any other, when you don’t want their venison or their skins. No good white man and no good redman would do it. But it’s wicked for a Christian to talk about chasing anything in Heaven. Such things are not done before the face of God, and the missionary that teaches these doctrines can’t be a true missionary. He must be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I suppose you know what a sheep is, Deerslayer?”

  “That I do, gal; and a useful creature it is to such as like cloths better than skins for winter garments. I understand the natur’ of sheep, though I’ve had but little to do with ’em; and the natur’ of wolves too, and can take the idee of a wolf in the fleece of a sheep, though I think it would be likely to prove a hot jacket for such a beast in the warm months.”

  “And sin and hypocrisy are hot jackets, as they will find who put them on,” returned Hetty, positively; “so the wolf would be no worse off than the sinner. Spirits don’t hunt, nor trap, nor fish, nor do anything that vain men undertake, since they’ve none of the longings of this world to feed. O! mother told me all that years ago, and I didn’t wish to hear it denied.”

  “Well, my good Hetty, in that case you’d better not broach your doctrine to Hist when she and you are alone, and the young Delaware maiden is inclined to talk religion. It’s her fixed idee, I know, that the good warriors do nothing but hunt and fish in the other world; though I don’t believe that she fancies any of them are brought down to trapping, which is no empl’yment for a brave. But of hunting and fishing, accordin’ to her notion, they’ve their fill, and that, too, over the most agreeablest hunting-grounds, and among game that’s never out of season, and which is just actyve and instinctyve enough to give a pleasure to death. So I wouldn’t recommend it to you to start Hist on that idee.”

  “Hist can’t be so wicked as to believe any such thing,” returned the other earnestly. “No Indian hunts after he is dead.”

  “No wicked Indian, I grant you; no wicked Indian sartainly. He is obliged to carry the ammunition, and to look on without sharing in the sport, and to cook, and to light the fires, and to do everything that isn’t manful. Now mind, I don’t tell you these are my idees, but they are Hist’s idees, and therefore, for the sake of peace, the less you say to her ag‘in ’em, the better.”

  “And what are your ideas of the fate of an Indian in the other world?” demanded Judith, who had just found her voice.

  “Ah! gal, anything but that! I am too Christianized to expect anything so fanciful as hunting and fishing after death; nor do I believe there is one Manitou for the redskin, and another for a paleface. You find different colors on ‘arth, as any one may see, but you don’t find different natur’s. Different gifts, but only one natur’.”

  “In what is a gift different from a nature? Is not nature itself a gift from God?”

  “Sartain; that’s quick-thoughted and creditable, Judith, though the main idee is wrong. A natur’ is the creatur’ itself; its wishes, wants, idees, and feelin‘s, as all are born in him. This natur’ never can be changed in the main, though it may undergo some increase or lessening. Now, gifts come of sarcumstances. Thus, if you put a man in a town, he gets town gifts; in a settlement, settlement gifts; in a forest, gifts of the woods. A soldier has soldierly gifts, and a missionary preaching gifts. All these increase and strengthen until they get to fortify natur’ as it might be, and excuse a thousand acts and idees. Still the creatur’ is the same at the bottom; just as a man who is clad in regimentals is the same as the man that is clad in skins. The garments make a change to the eye, and some change in the conduct perhaps; but none in the man. Herein lies the apology for gifts; seein’ that you expect different conduct from one in silks and satins from one in homespun; though the Lord, who didn’t make the dresses, but who made the creatur’s themselves, looks only at his own work. This isn’t ra’al missionary doctrine, but it’s as near it as a man of white color need be. Ah’s me! little did I think to be talking of such matters today, but it’s one of our weaknesses never to know what will come to pass. Step into the ark with me, Judith, for a minute. I wish to convarse with you.”

  Judith complied with a willingness she could scarce conceal. Following the hunter into the cabin, she took a seat on a stool, while the young man brought Killdeer, the rifle she had given him, out of a corner, and placed himself on another, with the weapon laid upon his knees. After turning the piece round and round, and examining its lock and its breech with a sort of affectionate assiduity, he laid it down, and proceeded to the subject which had induced him to desire the interview.

  “I understand you, Judith, to say that you gave me this rifle,” he said. “I agreed to take it because a young woman can have no particular use for firearms. The we’pon has a great name, and it desarves it, and ought of right to be carried by some known and sure hand, for the best reputation may be lost by careless and thoughtless handling.”

  “Can it be in better hands than those in which it is now, Deerslayer ? Thomas Hutter seldom missed with it; with you it must turn out to be—”

  “Sartain death!” interrupted the hunter, laughing. “I once know’d a beaver man that had a piece he called by that very name, but ‘twas all boastfulness, for I’ve seen Delawares that were as true with arrows at a short range. Howsever, I’ll not deny my gifts—for this is a gift, Judith, and not natur’—but I’ll not deny my gifts, and therefore allow that the rifle couldn’t well be in better hands than it is at present. But how long will it be likely to remain there? Atween us, the truth may be said, though I shouldn’t like to have it known to the Sarpent and Hist; but to you the truth may be spoken, since your feelin’s will not be as likely to be tormented by it as those of them that have known me longer and better. How long am I like to own this rifle or any other? That is a serious question for our thoughts to rest on, and shoul
d that happen which is likely to happen, Killdeer would be without an owner.”

  Judith listened with apparent composure, though the conflict within came near overpowering her. Appreciating the singular character of her companion, however, she succeeded in appearing calm; though, had not his attention been drawn exclusively to the rifle, a man of his keenness of observation could scarce have failed to detect the agony of mind with which the girl had hearkened to his words. Her great self-command, notwithstanding, enabled her to pursue the subject in a way still to deceive him.

  “What would you have me do with the weapon,” she asked, “should that which you seem to expect take place?”

  “That’s just what I wanted to speak to you about, Judith—that’s just it. There’s Chingachgook, now, though far from being parfect sartainty with a rifle—for few redskins ever get to be that—though far from being parfect sartainty, he is respectable, and is coming on. Nevertheless, he is my fri‘nd; and all the better fri’nd, perhaps, because there never can be any hard feelin’s atween us, touchin’ our gifts; his’n bein’ red, and mine bein’ altogether white. Now, I should like to leave Killdeer to the Sarpent, should anything happen to keep me from doing credit and honor to your precious gift, Judith.”

  “Leave it to whom you please, Deerslayer; the rifle is your own, to do with as you please; Chingachgook shall have it, should you never return to claim it, if that be your wish.”

  “Has Hetty been consulted in this matter? Property goes from the parent to the children, and not to one child in partic’lar.”

  “If you place your right on that law, Deerslayer, I fear none of us can claim to be the owner. Thomas Hutter was no more the father of Esther, than he was the father of Judith. Judith and Esther, we are truly, having no other name.”

  “There may be a law in that, but there’s no great reason, gal. Accordin’ to the custom of families, the goods are your’n, and there’s no one here to gainsay it. If Hetty would only say that she is willing, my mind would be quite at ease in the matter. It’s true, Judith, that your sister has neither your beauty nor your wit; but we should be the tenderest of the rights and welfare of the most weak-minded.”