The Deerslayer; or, The First Warpath . . . Volume 2

by James Fenimore Cooper

  “Judith, you come of people altogether above mine, in the world; and onequal matches, like onequal fri’ndships, can’t often tarminate kindly. I speak of this matter altogether as a fanciful thing, since it’s not very likely that you, at least, would be able to treat it as a matter that can ever come to pass.”

  Judith fastened her deep blue eyes on the open, frank countenance of her companion, as if she would read his soul. Nothing there betrayed any covert meaning, and she was obliged to admit to herself that he regarded the conversation as argumentative, rather than positive, and that he was still without any active suspicion that her feelings were seriously involved in the issue. At first she felt offended; then she saw the injustice of making the self-abasement and modesty of the hunter a charge against him; and this novel difficulty gave a piquancy to the state of affairs that rather increased her interest in the young man. At that critical instant, a change of plan flashed on her mind, and, with a readiness of invention that is peculiar to the quick-witted and ingenious, she adopted a scheme by which she hoped effectually to bind him to her person. This scheme partook equally of her fertility of invention, and of the decision and boldness of her character. That the conversation might not terminate too abruptly, however, or any suspicion of her design exist, she answered the last remark of Deerslayer as earnestly and as truly as if her original intention remained unaltered.

  “I, certainly, have no reason to boast of parentage, after what I have seen this night,” said the girl, in a saddened voice. “I had a mother, it is true; but of her name, even, I am ignorant: and as for my father, it is better, perhaps, that I should never know who he was, lest I speak too bitterly of him!”

  “Judith,” said Deerslayer, taking her hand kindly, and with a manly sincerity that went directly to the girl’s heart, “’tis better to say no more to-night. Sleep on what you’ve seen and felt; in the morning, things that now look gloomy may look more cheerful. Above all, never do any thing in bitterness, or because you feel as if you’d like to take revenge on yourself for other people’s backslidings. All that has been said or done atween us, this night, is your secret, and shall never be talked of by me, even with the Sarpent; and you may be sartain if he can’t get it out of me, no man can. If your parents have been faulty, let the darter be less so; remember that you’re young, and the youthful may always hope for better times; that you’re more quick-witted than usual, and such ginerally get the better of difficulties; and that as for beauty, you’re oncommon; this is an advantage with all. It is time to get a little rest, for to-morrow is like to prove a trying day to some of us.”

  Deerslayer arose as he spoke, and Judith had no choice but to comply. The chest was closed and secured, and they parted in silence; she to take her place by the side of Hist and Hetty, and he to seek a blanket on the floor of the cabin he was in. It was not five minutes ere the young man was in a deep sleep; but the girl continued awake for a long time. She scarce knew whether to lament, or to rejoice, at having failed in making herself understood. On the one hand, were her womanly sensibilities spared; on the other, was the disappointment of defeated, or at least of delayed expectations, and the uncertainty of a future that looked so dark. Then came the new resolution, and the bold project for the morrow; and when drowsiness finally shut her eyes, they closed on a scene of success and happiness, that was pictured by the fancy, under the influence of a sanguine temperament and a happy invention.

  CHAPTER X.

  “But, mother, now a shade has past

  Athwart my brightest visions here, A cloud of darkest gloom has wrapt

  The remnant of my brief career! No song, no echo can I win;

  The sparkling fount has dried within.”

  Margaret Davidson. Hist and Hetty arose with the return of light, leaving Judith still buried in sleep. It took but a minute for the first to complete her toilet. Her long coal-black hair was soon adjusted in a simple knot, the calico dress belted tight to her slender waist, and her little feet concealed in their gaudily-ornamented moccasins. When attired, she left her companion employed in household affairs, and went herself on the platform, to breathe the pure air of the morning. Here she found Chingachgook studying the shores of the lake, the mountains, and the heavens, with the sagacity of a man of the woods, and the gravity of an Indian.

  The meeting between the lovers was simple, but affectionate. The chief showed a manly kindness, equally removed from boyish weakness and haste; while the girl betrayed in her smile and half-averted looks, the bashful tenderness of her sex. Neither spoke, unless it were with the eyes, though each understood the other as fully as if a vocabulary of words and protestations had been poured out. Hist seldom appeared to more advantage than at that moment; for, just from her rest and ablutions, there was a freshness about her youthful form and face, that the toils of the wood do not always permit to be exhibited, by even the juvenile and pretty. Then Judith had not only imparted some of her own skill in the toilet, during their short intercourse, but she had actually bestowed a few well-selected ornaments from her own stores, that contributed not a little to set off the natural graces of the Indian maid. All this the lover saw and felt, and for a moment his countenance was illuminated with a look of pleasure; but it soon grew grave, again, and became saddened and anxious. The stools used the previous night were still standing on the platform; placing two against the walls of the hut, he seated himself on one, making a gesture to his companion to take the other. This done, he continued thoughtful and silent, for quite a minute, maintaining the reflecting dignity of one born to take his seat at the council-fire, while Hist was furtively watching the expression of his face, patient and submissive, as became a woman of her people. Then the young warrior stretched his arm before him, as if to point out the glories of the scene at that witching hour, when the whole panorama, as usual, was adorned by the mellow distinctness of early morning, sweeping with his hand slowly over lake, hills and heavens. The girl followed the movement with pleased wonder, smiling as each new beauty met her gaze.

  “Hugh!” exclaimed the chief, in admiration of a scene so unusual even to him, for this was the first lake he had ever beheld. “This is the country of the Manitou! It is too good for Mingos, Hist; but the curs of that tribe are howling in packs through the woods. They think that the Delawares are asleep, over the mountains.”

  “All but one of them is, Chingachgook. There is one here; and he is of the blood of Uncas!”

  “What is one warrior against a tribe?--The path to our villages is very long and crooked, and we shall travel it under a cloudy sky. I am afraid, too, Honeysuckle of the Hills, that we shall travel it alone!”

  Hist understood the allusion, and it made her sad; though it sounded sweet to her ears to be compared, by the warrior she so loved, to the most fragrant, and the pleasantest of all the wild-flowers of her native woods. Still she continued silent, as became her when the allusion was to a grave interest that men could best control, though it exceeded the power of education to conceal the smile that gratified feeling brought to her pretty mouth.

  “When the sun is thus,” continued the Delaware, pointing to the zenith, by simply casting upward a hand and finger, by a play of the wrist, “the great hunter of our tribe will go back to the Hurons, to be treated like a bear, that they roast and skin, even on full stomachs.”

  “The Great Spirit may soften their hearts, and not suffer them to be so bloody-minded. I have lived among the Hurons, and know them. They have hearts, and will not forget their own children, should they fall into the hands of the Delawares.”

  “A wolf is for ever howling; a hog will always eat. They have lost warriors; even their women will call out for vengeance. The pale-face has the eyes of an eagle, and can see into a Mingo’s heart; he looks for no mercy. There is a cloud over his spirit, though it is not before his face.”

  A long, thoughtful pause succeeded, during which Hist stealthily took the hand of the chief, as if seeking his support, though she scarce ventured to raise her eyes
to a countenance that was now literally becoming terrible, under the conflicting passions, and stern resolution that were struggling in the breast of its owner.

  “What will the Son of Uncas do?” the girl at length timidly asked. “He is a chief, and is already celebrated in council, though so young; what does his heart tell him is wisest; does the head, too, speak the same words as the heart?”

  “What does Wah-ta!-Wah say, at a moment when my dearest friend is in such danger. The smallest birds sing the sweetest; it is always pleasant to hearken to their songs. I wish I could hear the Wren of the Woods in my difficulty; its note would reach deeper than the ear.”

  Again Hist experienced the profound gratification that the language of praise can always awaken, when uttered by those we love. The “Honeysuckle of the Hills” was a term often applied to the girl, by the young men of the Delawares, though it never sounded so sweet in her ears, as from the lips of Chingachgook; but the latter alone had ever styled her the Wren of the Woods. With him, however, it had got to be a familiar phrase, and it was past expression pleasant to the listener, since it conveyed to her mind the idea that her advice and sentiments were as acceptable to her future husband, as the tones of her voice and modes of conveying them were agreeable; uniting the two things most prized by an Indian girl, as coming from her betrothed, admiration for a valued physical advantage, with respect for her opinion. She pressed the hand she held between both her own, and answered--

  “Wah-ta!-Wah says that neither she nor the Great Serpent could ever laugh again, or ever sleep without dreaming of the Hurons, should the Deerslayer die under a Mingo tomahawk, and they do nothing to save him. She would rather go back, and start on her long path alone, than let such a dark cloud pass before her happiness.”

  “Good! The husband and the wife will have but one heart; they will see with the same eyes, and feel with the same feelings.”

  What further was said, need not be related here. That the conversation was of Deerslayer, and his hopes, has been seen already, but the decision that was come to, will better appear in the course of the narrative. The youthful pair were yet conversing when the sun appeared above the tops of the pines, and the light of a brilliant American day streamed down into the valley, bathing “in deep joy” the lake, the forests and the mountain sides. Just at this instant Deerslayer came out of the cabin of the ark, and stepped upon the platform. His first look was at the cloudless heavens, then his rapid glance took in the entire panorama of land and water, when he had leisure for a friendly nod at his friends, and a cheerful smile for Hist.

  “Well,” he said, in his usual, composed manner, and pleasant voice; “he that sees the sun set in the west, and wakes ’arly enough in the morning, will be sartain to find him coming back ag’in in the east, like a buck that is hunted round his ha’nts. I dare say, now, Hist, you’ve beheld this, time and ag’in, and yet it never entered into your galish mind to ask the reason?”

  Both Chingachgook and his betrothed looked up at the luminary, with an air that betokened sudden wonder, and then they gazed at each other, as if to seek the solution of the difficulty. Familiarity deadens the sensibilities, even as connected with the gravest natural phenomena; and never before had these simple beings thought of inquiring into a movement that was of daily occurrence, however puzzling it might appear on investigation. When the subject was thus suddenly started, it struck both alike, and at the same instant, with some such force, as any new and brilliant proposition in the natural sciences would strike the scholar. Chingachgook alone saw fit to answer.

  “The pale-faces know every thing,” he said; “can they tell us why the sun hides his face, when he goes back, at night.”

  “Ay, that is downright red-skin l’arnin’,” returned the other, laughing; though he was not altogether insensible to the pleasure of proving the superiority of his race, by solving the difficulty, which he set about doing, in his own peculiar manner. “Hark’ee, Sarpent,” he continued more gravely, though too simply for affectation; “this is easierly explained than an Indian brain may fancy. The sun, while he seems to keep travelling in the heavens, never budges, but it is the ’arth that turns round; and any one can understand, if he is placed on the side of a mill-wheel, for instance, when it’s in motion, that he must sometimes see the heavens, while he is at other times under water. There’s no great secret in that, but plain natur’; the difficulty being in setting the ’arth in motion.”

  “How does my brother know that the earth turns round?” demanded the Indian. “Can he see it?”

  “Well, that’s been a puzzler, I will own, Delaware; for I’ve often tried, but never could fairly make it out. Sometimes I’ve consaited that I could; and then ag’in, I’ve been obliged to own it an onpossibility. Howsever, turn it does, as all my people say, and you ought to believe ’em, since they can foretell eclipses, and other prodigies, that used to fill the tribes with terror, according to your own traditions of such things.”

  “Good. This is true; no red man will deny it. When a wheel turns, my eyes can see it--they do not see the earth turn.”

  “Ay, that’s what I call sense-obstinacy! Seeing is believing, they say; and what they can’t see, some men won’t in the least give credit to. Nevertheless, chief, that isn’t quite as good reason as it may at first seem. You believe in the Great Spirit, I know; and yet, I conclude, it would puzzle you to show where you see him!”

  “Chingachgook can see Him everywhere--everywhere in good things--the Evil Spirit in bad. Here, in the lake; there, in the forest; yonder, in the clouds; in Hist, in the son of Uncas, in Tamenund, in Deerslayer. The Evil Spirit is in the Mingos. That I know; I do not see the earth turn round.”

  “I don’t wonder they call you the Sarpent, Delaware; no, I don’t! There’s always a meaning in your words, and there’s often a meaning in your countenance, too! Notwithstanding, your answers doesn’t quite meet my idee. That God is obsarvable in all nat’ral objects is allowable; but then he is not parceptible in the way I mean. You know there is a Great Spirit, by his works, and the pale-faces know that the ’arth turns round by its works. This is the reason of the matter, though how it is to be explained, is more than I can exactly tell you. This I know; all my people consait that fact; and what all the pale-faces consait, is very likely to be true.”

  “When the sun is in the top of that pine to-morrow, where will my brother Deerslayer be?”

  The hunter started, and he looked intently, though totally without alarm, at his friend. Then he signed for him to follow, and led the way into the ark, where he might pursue the subject unheard by those, whose feelings he feared might get the mastery over their reason. Here he stopped, and pursued the conversation in a more confidential tone.

  “’Twas a little onreasonable in you, Sarpent,” he said, “to bring up such a subject afore Hist, and when the young woman of my own colour might overhear what was said. Yes, ’twas a little more onreasonable than most things that you do. No matter; Hist didn’t comprehend, and the other didn’t hear. Howsever, the question is easier put than answered. No mortal can say where he will be when the sun rises to-morrow. I will ask you the same question, Sarpent, and should like to hear what answer you can give.”

  “Chingachgook will be with his friend Deerslayer; if he be in the land of spirits, the Great Serpent will crawl at his side; if beneath yonder sun, its warmth and light shall fall on both.”

  “I understand you, Delaware,” returned the other, touched with the simple self-devotion of his friend. “Such language is as plain in one tongue as in another; it comes from the heart, and goes to the heart, too. ’Tis well to think so, and it may be well to say so, for that matter, but it would not be well to do so, Sarpent. You are no longer alone in life; for, though you have the lodges to change, and other ceremonies to go through, afore Hist becomes your lawful wife, yet are you as good as married, in all that bears on the feelin’s, and joy, and misery. No, no; Hist must not be desarted, because a cloud is passing atween you and me,
a little onexpectedly, and a little darker than we may have looked for.”

  “Hist is a daughter of the Mohicans; she knows how to obey her husband. Where he goes, she will follow. Both will be with the Great Hunter of the Delawares, when the sun shall be in the pine to-morrow.”

  “The Lord bless and protect you! Chief; this is down-right 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. After 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, ar’n’t to be risked on onsartainties. 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 oftener 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 pale-face 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.”