“Ay, ay, this is all very well, in the animal way, though it makes but a poor figure alongside of scalps and and-bushes. Shooting an Indian from an and-bush is acting up to his own principles, and now we have what you call a lawful war on our hands, the sooner you wipe that disgrace off your conscience, the sounder will be your sleep; if it only come from knowing there is one inimy the less prowling in the woods. I shall not frequent your society long, friend Natty, unless you look higher than four-footed beasts to practyse your rifle on.”
“Our journey is nearly ended, you say, Master March, and we can part to-night, if you see occasion. I have a fri’nd waiting for me, who will think it no disgrace to consort with a fellow-creatur’ that has never yet slain his kind.”
“I wish I knew what has brought that skulking Delaware into this part of the country so early in the season,” muttered Hurry to himself, in a way to show equally distrust and a recklessness of its betrayal. “Where did you say the young chief was to give you the meeting?”
“At a small, round rock, near the foot of the lake, where, they tell me, the tribes are given to resorting to make their treaties, and to bury their hatchets. This rock have I often heard the Delawares mention, though lake and rock are equally strangers to me. The country is claimed by both Mingos and Mohicans, and is a sort of common territory to fish and hunt through, in time of peace, though what it may become in war-time, the Lord only knows!”
“Common territory!” exclaimed Hurry, laughing aloud. “I should like to know what Floating Tom Hutter would say to that? He claims the lake as his own property, in vartue of fifteen years’ possession, and will not be likely to give it up to either Mingo or Delaware, without a battle for it.”
“And what will the colony say to such a quarrel? All this country must have some owner, the gentry pushing their cravings into the wilderness, even where they never dare to ventur’, in their own persons, to look at’em.”
“That may do in other quarters of the colony, Deerslayer, but it will not do here. Not a human being, the Lord excepted, owns a foot of s’ile in this part of the country. Pen was never put to paper, consarning either hill or valley, hereaway, as I’ve heard old Tom say, time and ag’in, and so he claims the best right to it of any man breathing; and what Tom claims, he’ll be very likely to maintain.”
“By what I’ve heard you say, Hurry, this Floating Tom must be an oncommon mortal; neither Mingo, Delaware, nor Pale-Face. His possession, too, has been long, by your tell, and altogether beyond frontier endurance. What’s the man’s history and natur’?”
“Why, as to old Tom’s human natur’, it is not much like other men’s human natur’, but more like a musk-rat’s human natur’, seeing that he takes more to the ways of that animal, than to the ways of any other fellow-creatur’. Some think he was a free liver on the salt-water, in his youth, and a companion of a sartain Kidd, who was hanged for piracy, long afore you and I were born, or acquainted, and that he came up into these regions, thinking that the king’s cruisers could never cross the mountains, and that he might enjoy the plunder peaceably in the woods.”
“Then he was wrong, Hurry; very wrong. A man can enjoy plunder peaceably nowhere.”
“That’s much as his turn of mind may happen to be. I’ve known them that never could enjoy it at all, unless it was in the midst of a jollification, and them ag’in that enjoyed it best in a corner. Some men have no peace if they don’t find plunder, and some if they do. Human natur’ is crooked in these matters. Old Tom seems to belong to neither set, as he enjoys his, if plunder he has really got, with his darters, in a very quiet and comfortable way, and wishes for no more.”
“Ay, he has darters, too; I’ve heard the Delawares, who’ve hunted this-a-way, tell their histories of these young women. Is there no mother, Hurry?”
“There was once, as in reason; but she has now been dead and sunk these two good years.”
“Anan?” said Deerslayer, looking up at his companion in a little surprise.
“Dead and sunk, I say, and I hope that’s good English. The old fellow lowered his wife into the lake, by way of seeing the last of her, as I can testify, being an eye-witness of the ceremony; but whether Tom did it to save digging, which is no easy job among roots, or out of a consait that water washes away sin sooner than ’arth, is more than I can say.”
“Was the poor woman oncommon wicked, that her husband should take so much pains with her body?”
“Not onreasonable; though she had her faults. I consider Judith Hutter to have been as graceful, and about as likely to make a good ind, as any woman who had lived so long beyond the sound of church bells; and I conclude old Tom sunk her as much by way of saving pains, as by way of taking it. There was a little steel in her temper, it’s true, and, as old Hutter is pretty much flint, they struck out sparks once-and-a-while, but, on the whole, they might be said to live amicable like. When they did kindle, the listeners got some such insights into their past lives, as one gets into the darker parts of the woods, when a stray gleam of sunshine finds its way down to the roots of the trees. But Judith I shall always esteem, as it’s recommend enough to one woman to be the mother of such a creatur’ as her darter, Judith Hutter!”
“Ay, Judith was the name the Delawares mentioned, though it was pronounced after a fashion of their own. From their discourse, I do not think the girl would much please my fancy.”
“Thy fancy!” exclaimed March, taking fire equally at the indifference and at the presumption of his companion, “what the devil have you to do with a fancy, and that, too, consarning one like Judith? You are but a boy--a sapling, that has scarce got root. Judith has had men among her suitors, ever since she was fifteen; which is now near five years; and will not be apt even to cast a look upon a halfgrown creatur’ like you!”
“It is June, and there is not a cloud atween us and the sun, Hurry, so all this heat is not wanted,” answered the other, altogether undisturbed; “any one may have a fancy, and a squirrel has a right to make up his mind touching a catamount.”
“Ay, but it might not be wise, always, to let the catamount know it,” growled March. “But you’re young and thoughtless, and I’ll overlook your ignorance. Come, Deerslayer,” he added, with a good-natured laugh, after pausing a moment to reflect, “come, Deerslayer, we are sworn fri’nds, and will not quarrel about a light-minded, jilting jade, just because she happens to be handsome; more especially as you have never seen her. Judith is only for a man whose teeth show the full marks, and it’s foolish to be afeard of a boy. What did the Delawares say of the hussy; for, an Indian, after all, has his notions of woman-kind, as well as a white man?”
“They said she was fair to look on, and pleasant of speech; but over-given to admirers, and light-minded.”
“They are devils incarnate! After all, what schoolmaster is a match for an Indian, in looking into natur’? Some people think they are only good on a trail, or the war-path, but I say that they are philosophers, and understand a man, as well as they understand a beaver, and a woman as well as they understand either. Now that’s Judith’s character to a riband! To own the truth to you, Deerslayer, I should have married the gal two years since, if it had not been for two particular things, one of which was this very light-mindedness.”
“And what may have been the other?” demanded the hunter, who continued to eat like one that took very little interest in the subject.
“T’ other was an unsartainty about her having me. The hussy is handsome, and she knows it. Boy, not a tree that is growing in these hills is straighter, or waves in the wind with an easier bend, nor did you ever see the doe that bounded with a more nat’ral motion. If that was all, every tongue would sound her praises; but she has such failings that I find it hard to overlook them, and sometimes I swear I’ll never visit the lake ag’in.”
“Which is the reason that you always come back? Nothing is ever made more sure by swearing about it.”
“Ah, Deerslayer, you are a novelty in these partic�
�lars; keeping as true to edication as if you had never left the settlements. With me the case is different, and I never want to clinch an idee, that I do not feel a wish to swear about it. If you know’d all that I know consarning Judith, you’d find a justification for a little cursing. Now, the officers sometimes stray over to the lake, from the forts on the Mohawk, to fish and hunt, and then the creatur’ seems beside herself! You can see it in the manner in which she wears her finery, and the airs she gives herself with the gallants.”
“That is unseemly in a poor man’s darter,” returned Deerslayer gravely, “the officers are all gentry, and can only look on such as Judith with evil intentions.”
“There’s the unsartainty, and the damper! I have my misgivings about a particular captain, and Jude has no one to blame but her own folly, if I’m wrong. On the whole, I wish to look upon her as modest and becoming, and yet the clouds that drive among these hills are not more unsartain. Not a dozen white men have ever laid eyes upon her, since she was a child, and yet her airs, with two or three of these officers, are extinguishers!”
“I would think no more of such a woman, but turn my mind altogether to the forest; that will never deceive you, being ordered and ruled by a hand that never wavers.”
“If you know’d Judith, you would see how much easier it is to say this, than it would be to do it. Could I bring my mind to be easy about the officers, I would carry the gal off to the Mohawk by force, make her marry me in spite of her whiffling, and leave old Tom to the care of Hetty, his other child, who, if she be not as handsome, or as quick-witted as her sister, is much the most dutiful.”
“Is there another bird in the same nest?” asked Deerslayer, raising his eyes with a species of half-awakened curiosity--“the Delawares spoke to me only of one.”
“That’s nat’ral enough, when Judith Hutter and Hetty Hutter are in question. Hetty is only comely, while her sister, I tell thee, boy, is such another as is not to be found atween this and the sea: Judith is as full of wit, and talk, and cunning, as an old Indian orator, while poor Hetty is at the best but ‘compass meant us.’ ”
“Anan?” inquired, again, the Deerslayer.
“Why, what the officers call ‘compass meant us,’ which I understand to signify that she means always to go in the right direction, but sometimes doesn’t know how. ‘Compass’ for the p’int, and ‘meant us’ for the intention. No, poor Hetty is what I call on the varge of ignorance, and sometimes she stumbles on one side of the line, and sometimes on t’ other.”
“Them are beings that the Lord has in his ’special care,” said Deerslayer, solemnly; “for he looks carefully to all who fall short of their proper share of reason. The Redskins honour and respect them who are so gifted, knowing that the Evil Spirit delights more to dwell in an artful body, than in one that has no cunning to work upon.”
“I’ll answer for it, then, that he will not remain long with poor Hetty--for the child is just ‘compass meant us,’ as I have told you. Old Tom has a feeling for the gal, and so has Judith, quick-witted and glorious as she is herself; else would I not answer for her being altogether safe among the sort of men that sometimes meet on the lake shore.”
“I thought this water an onknown and little-frequented sheet,” observed the Deerslayer, evidently uneasy at the idea of being too near the world.
“It’s all that lad, the eyes of twenty white men never having been laid on it; still, twenty true-bred frontier-men --hunters, and trappers, and scouts, and the like,--can do a deal of mischief if they try. ’T would be an awful thing to me, Deerslayer, did I find Judith married, after an absence of six months!”
“Have you the gal’s faith, to incourage you to hope otherwise?”
“Not at all. I know not how it is--I’m good-looking, boy; that much I can see in any spring on which the sun shines--and yet I could never get the hussy to a promise, or even a cordial willing smile, though she will laugh by the hour. If she has dared to marry in my absence, she’ll be like to know the pleasures of widowhood, afore she is twenty!”
“You would not harm the man she had chosen, Hurry, simply because she found him more to her liking than yourself?”
“Why not? If an enemy crosses my path, will I not beat him out of it! Look at me--am I man like to let any sneaking, crawling, skin-trader, get the better of me in a matter that touches me as near as the kindness of Judith Hutter? Besides, when we live beyond law, we must be our own judges and executioners. And if a man should be found dead in the woods, who is there to say who slew him, even admitting that the Colony took the matter in hand, and made a stir about it?”
“If that man should be Judith Hutter’s husband, after what has passed, I might tell enough, at least, to put the Colony on the trail.”
“You!--half-grown, venison-hunting bantling! You, dare to think of informing against Hurry Harry in so much as a matter touching a mink, or a woodchuck!”
“I would dare to speak truth, Hurry, consarning you, or any man that ever lived.”
March looked at his companion, for a moment, in silent amazement; then seizing him by the throat, with both hands, he shook his comparatively slight frame, with a violence that menaced the dislocation of some of the bones. Nor was this done jocularly, for anger flashed from the giant’s eyes, and there were certain signs, that seemed to threaten much more earnestness than the occasion would appear to call for. Whatever might be the real intention of March, and it is probable there was none settled in his mind, it is certain that he was unusually aroused; and most men who found themselves throttled by one of a mould so gigantic, in such a mood, and in a solitude so deep and helpless, would have felt intimidated, and tempted to yield even the right. Not so, however, with Deerslayer. His countenance remained unmoved; his hand did not shake, and his answer was given in a voice that did not resort to the artifice of louder tones, even, by way of proving its owner’s resolution.
“You may shake, Hurry, until you bring down the mountain,” he said, quietly, “but nothing beside truth will you shake from me. It is probable that Judith Hutter has no husband to slay, and you may never have a chance to waylay one, else would I tell her of your threat, in the first conversation I held with the gal.”
March released his gripe, and sat regarding the other, in silent astonishment.
“I thought we had been friends,” he at length added-- “but you’ve got the last secret of mine, that will ever enter your ears.”
“I want none, if they are to be like this. I know we live in the woods, Hurry, and are thought to be beyond human laws--and perhaps we are so, in fact, whatever it may be in right--but there is a law, and a law maker, that rule across the whole continent. He that flies in the face of either, need not call me fri’nd.”
“Damme, Deerslayer, if I do not believe you are, at heart, a Moravian, and no fair-minded, plain-dealing hunter, as you’ve pretended to be!”
“Fair-minded or not, Hurry, you will find me as plain-dealing in deeds, as I am in words. But this giving way to sudden anger is foolish, and proves how little you have sojourned with the red men. Judith Hutter no doubt is still single, and you spoke but as the tongue ran, and not as the heart felt. There’s my hand, and we will say and think no more about it.”
Hurry seemed more surprised than ever; then he burst forth in a loud good-natured laugh, which brought tears to his eyes. After this, he accepted the offered hand, and the parties became friends.
“’T would have been foolish to quarrel about an idee,” March cried, as he resumed his meal, “and more like lawyers in the towns, than like sensible men in the woods. They tell me, Deerslayer, much ill blood grows out of idees, among the people in the lower counties, and that they sometimes get to extremities upon them.”
“That do they--that do they; and about other matters that might better be left to take care of themselves. I have heard the Moravians say that there are lands in which men quarrel even consarning their religion; and if they can get their tempers up on such a subject, Hurry, the L
ord have marcy on ’em. Howsever, there is no occasion for our following their example, and more especially about a husband that this Judith Hutter may never see, or never wish to see. For my part, I feel more cur’osity about the feeble-witted sister, than about your beauty. There’s something that comes close to a man’s feelin’s, when he meets with a fellow creatur’ that has all the outward show of an accountable mortal, and who fails of being what he seems, only through a lack of reason. This is bad enough in a man, but when it comes to a woman, and she a young, and may-be a winning creatur’, it touches all the pitiful thoughts his natur’ has. God knows, Hurry, that such poor things are defenceless enough with all their wits about ’em; but it’s a cruel fortun’ when that great protector and guide fails ’em.”
“Harkee, Deerslayer--you know what the hunters, and trappers, and peltry-men in general be; and their best friends will not deny that they are headstrong and given to having their own way, without much bethinking ’em of other people’s rights, or feelin’s--and yet I don’t think the man is to be found, in all this region, who would harm Hetty Hutter, if he could; no, not even a red-skin.”
“Therein, fri’nd Hurry, you do the Delawares, at least, and all their allied tribes, only justice, for a red-skin looks upon a being thus struck by God’s power, as especially under his care. I rejoice to hear what you say, howsever, I rejoice to hear it; but as the sun is beginning to turn towards the afternoon’s sky, had we not better strike the trail ag’in, and make forward, that we may get an opportunity of seeing these wonderful sisters?”
Harry March giving a cheerful assent, the remnants of the meal were soon collected; then the travellers shouldered their packs, resumed their arms, and, quitting the little area of light, they again plunged into the deep shadows of the forest.
The Deerslayer; or, The First Warpath . . . Volume 1 Page 2
