“You are Hetty Hutter,” said Deerslayer, in the way one puts a question unconsciously to himself, assuming a kindness of tone and manner that were singularly adapted to win the confidence of her he addressed. “Hurry Harry has told me of you, and I know you must be the child?”
“Yes, I’m Hetty Hutter,” returned the girl, in a low, sweet voice, which nature, aided by some education, had preserved from vulgarity of tone and utterance; “I’m Hetty; Judith Hutter’s sister; and Thomas Hutter’s youngest daughter.”
“I know your history, then, for Hurry Harry talks considerable, and he is free of speech, when he can find other people’s consarns to dwell on. You pass most of your life on the lake, Hetty.”
“Certainly. Mother is dead; father is gone a-trapping, and Judith and I stay at home. What’s your name?”
“That’s a question more easily asked than it is answered, young woman; seeing that I’m so young, and yet have borne more names than some of the greatest chiefs in all America.”
“But you’ve got a name--you don’t throw away one name before you come honestly by another?”
“I hope not, gal--I hope not. My names have come nat’rally; and I suppose the one I bear now will be of no great lasting, since the Delawares seldom settle on a man’s ra’al title, until such time as he has an opportunity of showing his true natur’, in the council, or on the war-path; which has never behappened me; seeing, firstly, because I’m not born a red-skin, and have no right to sit in their councilings, and am much too humble to be called on for opinions from the great of my own colour; and, secondly, because this is the first war that has befallen in my time, and no inimy has yet inroaded far enough into the Colony, to be reached by an arm even longer than mine.”
“Tell me your names,” added Hetty, looking up at him artlessly, “and, may be, I’ll tell you your character.”
“There is some truth in that, I’ll not deny, though it often fails. Men are deceived in other men’s characters, and frequently give ’em names they by no means desarve. You can see the truth of this in the Mingo names, which, in their own tongue, signify the same things as the Delaware names--at least, so they tell me, for I know little of that tribe, unless it be by report--and no one can say they are as honest, or as upright a nation. I put no great dependence, therefore, on names.”
“Tell me all your names,” repeated the girl, earnestly, for her mind was too simple to separate things from professions, and she did attach importance to a name; “I want to know what to think of you.”
“Well, sartain; I’ve no objection, and you shall hear them all. In the first place, then, I’m Christian, and white-born, like yourself, and my parents had a name that came down from father to son, as is a part of their gifts. My father was called Bumppo; and I was named after him, of course, the given name being Nathaniel, or Natty, as most people saw fit to tarm it.”
“Yes, yes--Natty--and Hetty--” interrupted the girl quickly, and looking up from her work again, with a smile; “you are Natty, and I’m Hetty--though you are Bumppo, and I’m Hutter. Bumppo isn’t as pretty as Hutter, is it?”
“Why, that’s as people fancy. Bumppo has no lofty sound, I admit; and yet men have bumped through the world with it. I did not go by this name, howsever, very long; for the Delawares soon found out, or thought they found out, that I was not given to lying, and they called me, firstly, Straight-tongue.”
“That’s a good name,” interrupted Hetty, earnestly, and in a positive manner; “don’t tell me there’s no virtue in names!”
“I do not say that, for perhaps I desarved to be so called, lies being no favourites with me, as they are with some. After a while they found out that I was quick of foot, and then they called me ‘The Pigeon;’ which, you know, has a swift wing, and flies in a direct line.”
“That was a pretty name!” exclaimed Hetty; “pigeons are pretty birds!”
“Most things that God has created are pretty, in their way, my good gal, though they get to be deformed by man-kind, so as to change their natur’s, as well as their appearance. From carrying messages, and striking blind trails, I got, at last, to following the hunters, when it was thought I was quicker and surer at finding the game than most lads, and then they called me the ‘Lap-ear;’ as, they said, I partook of the sagacity of a hound.”
“That’s not so pretty,” answered Hetty; “I hope you didn’t keep that name long.”
“Not after I was rich enough to buy a rifle,” returned the other, betraying a little pride through his usually quiet and subdued manner; “then it was seen I could keep a wigwam in ven’son; and, in time, I got the name of ‘Deerslayer,’ which is that I now bear; homely as some will think it, who set more valie on the scalp of a fellow-mortal, than on the horns of a buck.”
“Well, Deerslayer, I’m not one of them,” answered Hetty, simply; “Judith likes soldiers, and flary coats, and fine feathers; but they’re all naught to me. She says the officers are great, and gay, and of soft speech; but they make me shudder, for their business is to kill their fellow-creatures. I like your calling better; and your last name is a very good one--better than Natty Bumppo.”
“This is nat’ral, in one of your turn of mind, Hetty, and much as I should have expected. They tell me your sister is handsome--oncommon, for a mortal; and beauty is apt to seek admiration.”
“Did you never see Judith?” demanded the girl, with quick earnestness; “if you never have, go, at once, and look at her. Even Hurry Harry isn’t more pleasant to look at; though she is a woman, and he is a man.”
Deerslayer regarded the girl, for a moment, with concern. Her pale face had flushed a little, and her eye, usually so mild and serene, brightened as she spoke, in the way to betray the inward impulses.
“Ay, Hurry Harry,” he muttered to himself, as he walked through the cabin, towards the other end of the boat; “this comes of good looks, if a light tongue has had no consarn in it. It’s easy to see which way that poor creatur’s feelin’s are leanin’, whatever may be the case with your Jude’s.”
But an interruption was put to the gallantry of Hurry-- the coquetry of his mistress--the thoughts of Deerslayer, and the gentle feelings of Hetty, by the sudden appearance of the canoe of the ark’s owner, in the narrow opening among the bushes, that served as a sort of moat to his position. It would seem that Hutter, or Floating Tom, as he was familiarly called by all the hunters who knew his habits, recognized the canoe of Hurry, for he expressed no surprise at finding him in the scow. On the contrary, his reception was such as to denote not only gratification, but a pleasure, mingled with a little disappointment, at his not having made his appearance some days sooner.
“I look’d for you last week,” he said, in a half-grumbling, half-welcoming manner; “and was disappointed uncommonly that you didn’t arrive. There came a runner through, to warn all the trappers and hunters that the Colony and the Canadas were again in trouble; and I felt lonesome, up in these mountains, with three scalps to see to, and only one pair of hands to protect them.”
“That’s reasonable,” returned March; “and’t was feelin’ like a parent. No doubt, if I had two such darters as Judith and Hetty, my exper’ence would tell the same story, though, in gin’ral, I am just as well satisfied with having the nearest neighbour fifty miles off, as when he is within call.”
“Notwithstanding, you didn’t choose to come into the wilderness alone, now you knew that the Canada savages are likely to be stirring,” returned Hutter, giving a sort of distrustful, and, at the same time, inquiring glance at Deerslayer.
“Why should I? They say a bad companion, on a journey, helps to shorten the path; and this young man I account to be a reasonably good one. This is Deerslayer, old Tom, a noted hunter among the Delawares, and Christian-born, and Christian-edicated, too, like you and me. The lad is not parfect, perhaps, but there’s worse men in the country that he came from, and, it’s likely, he ’ll find some that’s no better, in this part of the world. Should we have occasion to
defend our traps, and the territory, he ’ll be useful in feeding us all; for he’s a reg’lar dealer in ven’son.”
“Young man, you are welcome,” growled Tom, thrusting a hard, bony hand towards the youth, as a pledge of his sincerity; “in such times, a white-face is a friend’s, and I count on you as a support. Children, sometimes, make a stout heart feeble, and these two daughters of mine give me more concern than all my traps, and skins, and rights in the country.”
“That’s nat’ral!” cried Hurry. “Yes, Deerslayer, you and I don’t know it, yet, by exper’ence; but, on the whole, I consider that as nat’ral. If we had darters, it’s more than probable we should have some such feelin’s; and I honour the man that owns ’em. As for Judith, old man, I enlist, at once, as her soldier, and here is Deerslayer to help you to take care of Hetty.”
“Many thanks to you, Master March,” returned thé beauty, in a full, rich voice, and with an accuracy of intonation and utterance that she shared in common with her sister, and which showed that she had been better taught than their father’s life and appearance would give reason to expect; “many thanks to you; but Judith Hutter has the spirit and the experience that will make her depend more on herself, than on good-looking rovers like you. Should there be need to face the savages, do you land, with my father, instead of burrowing in the huts, under the show of defending us females, and--”
“Girl--girl,” interrupted the father, “quiet that glib tongue of thine, and hear the truth. There are savages on the lake shore, already, and no man can say how near to us they may be at this very moment, or when we may hear more from them!”
“If this be true, Master Hutter,” said Hurry, whose change of countenance denoted how serious he deemed the information, though it did not denote any unmanly alarm “if this be true, your ark is in a most misfortunate position for, though the cover did deceive Deerslayer and myself, it would hardly be overlooked by a full-blooded Indian, who was out seriously in s’arch of scalps!”
“I think as you do, Hurry, and wish, with all my heart, we lay anywhere else, at this moment, than in this narrow, crooked stream, which has many advantages to hide in, but which is almost fatal to them that are discovered. The savages are near us, moreover, and the difficulty is, to get out of the river without being shot down like deer standing at a lick!”
“Are you sartain, Master Hutter, that the red-skins you dread are ra’al Canadas?” asked Deerslayer, in a modest, but earnest manner. “Have you seen any; and can you describe their paint?”
“I have fallen in with the signs of their being in the neighbourhood, but have seen none of ’em. I was down stream, a mile or so, looking to my traps, when I struck a fresh trail, crossing the corner of a swamp, and moving northward. The man had not passed an hour; and I know’d it for an Indian footstep by the size of the foot, and the intoe, even before I found a worn moccasin, which its owner had dropped as useless. For that matter, I found the spot where he halted to make a new one, which was only a few yards from the place where he had dropped the old one.”
“That doesn’t look much like a red-skin on the warpath!” returned the other, shaking his head. “An exper’enced warrior, at least, would have burned, or buried, or sunk in the river, such signs of his passage; and your trail is, quite likely, a peaceable trail. But the moccasin may greatly relieve my mind, if you bethought you of bringing it off. I’ve come here to meet a young chief, myself; and his course would be much in the direction you ’ve mentioned. The trail may have been his’n.”
“Hurry Harry, you ’re well acquainted with this young man, I hope, who has meetings with savages in a part of the country where he has never been before?” demanded Hutter, in a tone and in a manner that sufficiently indicated the motive of the question; these rude beings seldom hesitating, on the score of delicacy, to betray their feelings. “Treachery is an Indian virtue; and the whites, that live much in their tribes, soon catch their ways and practices.”
“True--true as the Gospel, old Tom; but not personable to Deerslayer, who’s a young man of truth, if he has no other ricommend. I’ll answer for his honesty, whatever I may do for his valour in battle.”
“I should like to know his errand in this strange quarter of the country?”
“That is soon told, Master Hutter,” said the young man, with the composure of one who kept a clean conscience; “I think, moreover, you ’ve a right to ask it. The father of two such darters, who occupies a lake, after your fashion, has just the same right to inquire into a stranger’s business in his neighbourhood, as the Colony would have to demand the reason why the Frenchers put more rijiments than common along the lines. No, no, I ’ll not deny your right to know why a stranger comes into your habitation, or country, in times as serious as these.”
“If such is your way of thinking, friend, let me hear your story, without more words.”
“’T is soon told, as I said afore; and shall be honestly told. I ’m a young man, and, as yet, have never been on a war-path; but, no sooner did the news come among the Delawares, that wampum and a hatchet were about to be sent in to the tribe, than they wished me to go out among the people of my own colour, and get the exact state of things for ’em. This I did; and, after delivering my talk to the chiefs, on my return, I met an officer of the crown, on the Schoharie, who had moneys to send to some of the fri’ndly tribes, that live further west. This was thought a good occasion for Chingachgook, a young chief who has never struck a foe, and myself, to go on our first war-path in company; and an app’intment was made for us, by an old Delaware, to meet at the rock near the foot of this lake. I ’ll not deny that Chingachgook has another object in view, but it has no consarn with any here, and is his secret, and not mine; therefore I ’ll say no more about it.”
“’T is something about a young woman,” interrupted Judith, hastily; then laughing at her own impetuosity, and even having the grace to colour a little at the manner in which she had betrayed her readiness to impute such a motive. “If’t is neither war, nor a hunt, it must be love.”
“Ay, it comes easy for the young and handsome, who hear so much of them feelin’s, to suppose that they lie at the bottom of most procedin’s; but, on that head, I say nothin’. Chingachgook is to meet me at the rock, an hour afore sunset to-morrow evening, after which we shall go our way together, molesting none but the king’s inimies, who are lawfully our own. Knowing Hurry of old, who once trapped in our hunting-grounds, and falling in with him on the Schoharie, just as he was on the p’int of starting for his summer h’ants, we agreed to journey in company; not so much from fear of the Mingos, as from good fellowship, and, as he says, to shorten a long road.”
“And you think the trail I saw may have been that of your friend, ahead of his time?” said Hutter.
“That’s my idee; which may be wrong, but which may be right. If I saw the moccasin, however, I could tell, in a minute, whether it is made in the Delaware fashion or not.”
“Here it is, then,” said the quick-witted Judith, who had already gone to the canoe in quest of it; “tell us what it says; friend or enemy. You look honest; and I believe all you say, whatever father may think.”
“That’s the way with you, Jude; for ever finding out friends, where I distrust foes,” grumbled Tom: “but, speak out, young man, and tell us what you think of the moccasin.”
“That’s not Delaware-made,” returned Deerslayer, examining the worn and rejected covering for the foot with a cautious eye; “I ’m too young on a war-path to be positive, but, I should say, that moccasin has a northern look, and comes from beyond the great lakes.”
“If such is the case, we ought not to lie here a minute longer than is necessary,” said Hutter, glancing through the leaves of his cover, as if he already distrusted the presence of an enemy, on the opposite shore of the narrow and sinuous stream. “It wants but an hour, or so, of night, and to move in the dark will be impossible, without making a noise that would betray us. Did you hear the echo of a piece, in the mountains,
half an hour since?”
“Yes, old man, and heard the piece itself,” answered Hurry, who now felt the indiscretion of which he had been guilty, “for the last was fired from my own shoulder.”
“I feared it came from the French Indians; still, it may put them on the look-out, and be a means of discovering us. You did wrong to fire, in war-time, unless there was good occasion.”
“So I begin to think, myself, uncle Tom; and yet, if a man can’t trust himself to let off his rifle in a wilderness that is a thousand miles square, lest some inimy should hear it, where’s the use in carrying one!”
Hutter now held a long consultation with his two guests, in which the parties came to a true understanding of their situation. He explained the difficulty that would exist in attempting to get the ark out of so swift and narrow a stream, in the dark, without making a noise that could not fail to attract Indian ears. Any strollers, in their vicinity, would keep near the river, or the lake; but the former had swampy shores, in many places, and was both so crooked, and so fringed with bushes, that it was quite possible to move by day-light, without incurring much danger of being seen. More was to be apprehended, perhaps, from the ear, than from the eye, especially as long as they were in the short, straitened, and canopied reaches of the stream.
“I never drop down into this cover, which is handy to my traps, and safer than the lake, from curious eyes, without providing the means of getting out ag’in,” continued this singular being; “and that is easier done by a pull, than a push. My anchor is now lying above the suction, in the open lake; and here is a line, you see, to haul us up to it. Without some such help, a single pair of hands would make heavy work, in forcing a scow, like this, up stream. I have a sort of a crab, too, that lightens the pull, on occasion. Jude can use the oar, astarn, as well as myself; and, when we fear no enemy, to get out of the river gives us but little trouble.”
The Deerslayer; or, The First Warpath . . . Volume 1 Page 7
