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

by James Fenimore Cooper

  “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 are 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 an’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 mean 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, drily. “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 inemy, 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 soon 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 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 simple-minded 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 red-skins; but we, who are of white blood, hold altogether 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 travelled by all colours alike. ’Tis onpossible 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 non-plusser, Delaware,” said the hunter, in the Indian dialect--“yes, that is a downright non-plusser! 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 recommend to you, trusting to God, and putting down all misgivings and faint-hearted 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 teachers that have thought all was spirit, hereafter; and them, ag’in, that believed the body will be transported to another world, much as the red-skins 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.”

  “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 we 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, unless 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 red-skins 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 red-man would do it. But it’s wicked for a Christian to talk about chasing any thing 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 creatur’ 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 any thing that vain men undertake, since they’ve none of the longings of this world to feed. Oh! 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 is 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 every thing 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, any thing but that! I am too christianized to expect any thing so fanciful as hunting and fishing after death; nor do I believe there is one Manitou for the red-skin, and another for a pale-face. You find different colours 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 colour need be. Ah’s! me; little did I think to be talking of such matters to-day, 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 understood you, Judith, to say that you gave me this rifle,” he said. “I agreed to take it because a young woman can have no great use for fire-arms. 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 should that happen which is so 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 perfect sartainty with a rifle--for few red-skins ever get to be that--though far from being perfect 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 any thing happen to keep me from doing credit and honour 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 of the 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 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 weakminded.”

  The girl made no answer; but placing herself at a window, she summoned her sister to her side. When the question was put to Hetty, her simple-minded and affectionate nature cheerfully assented to the proposal to confer on Deerslayer a full right of ownership to the much-coveted rifle. The latter now seemed perfectly happy, for the time being, at least; and after again examining and re-examining his prize, he expressed a determination to put its merits to a practical test before he left the spot. No boy could have been more eager to exhibit the qualities of his trumpet, or his cross-bow, than this simple forester was to prove those of his rifle. Returning to the platform, he first took the Delaware aside, and informed him that this celebrated piece was to become his property, in the event of any thing serious befalling himself.

  “This is a new reason why you should be wary, Sarpent, and not run into any oncalculated danger,” the hunter added, “for it will be a victory of itself, to a tribe, to own such a piece as this! The Mingos will turn green with envy; and, what is more, they will not ventur’ heedlessly near a village where it is known to be kept. So look well to it, Delaware, and remember that you’ve now to watch over a thing that has all the valie of a creatur’, without its failin’s. Hist may be, and should be precious to you, but Killdeer will have the love and veneration of your whole people.”