The Leatherstocking Tales II

by James Fenimore Cooper

  Wah-ta!-Wah now led her companion towards the lake, descending the bank so as to place its overhanging trees and bushes between them, and any probable observers. Nor did she stop until they were both seated, side by side, on a fallen log, one end of which actually lay buried in the water.

  “Why you come for?” the young Indian eagerly inquired—“Where you come for?”

  Hetty told her tale in her own simple and truth-loving manner. She explained the situation of her father, and stated her desire to serve him, and if possible to procure his release.

  “Why your fader come to Mingo ’camp in night?” asked the Indian girl, with a directness, which if not borrowed from the other, partook largely of its sincerity. “He know it wartime, and he no boy—he no want beard—no want to be told Iroquois carry tomahawk, and knife, and rifle. Why he come night time, seize me by hair, and try to scalp, Delaware girl?”

  “You!” said Hetty, almost sickening with horror—“Did he seize you—did he try to scalp you?”

  “Why no? Delaware scalp sell for much as Mingo scalp. Governor no tell difference. Wicked t’ing for pale face to scalp. No his gifts, as the good Deerslayer alway tell me.”

  “And do you know the Deerslayer?” said Hetty, coloring with delight and surprise; forgetting her regrets, at the moment, in the influence of this new feeling. “I know him, too. He is now in the Ark, with Judith and a Delaware who is called the Big Serpent. A bold and handsome warrior is this Serpent, too!”

  Spite of the rich deep colour that nature had bestowed on the Indian beauty, the tell-tale blood deepened on her cheeks, until the blush gave new animation and intelligence to her jet-black eyes. Raising a finger in an attitude of warning, she dropped her voice, already so soft and sweet, nearly to a whisper, as she continued the discourse.

  “Chingachgook!” returned the Delaware girl, sighing out the harsh name, in sounds so softly guttural, as to cause it to reach the ear in melody—“His father, Uncas—great chief of the Mahicanni—next to old Tamenund!—More as warrior, not so much gray hair, and less at Council Fire. You know Serpent?”

  “He joined us last evening, and was in the Ark with me, for two or three hours before I left it. I’m afraid, Hist—” Hetty could not pronounce the Indian name of her new friend, but having heard Deerslayer give her this familiar appellation, she used it without any of the ceremony of civilized life—“I’m afraid Hist, he has come after scalps, as well as my poor father and Hurry Harry.”

  “Why he should’n’t—ha? Chingachgook red warrior—very red—scalp make his honor—Be sure he take him.”

  “Then,” said Hetty, earnestly, “he will be as wicked as any other. God will not pardon in a red-man, what he will not pardon in a white man.”

  “No true—” returned the Delaware girl, with a warmth, that nearly amounted to passion. “No true, I tell you! The Manitou smile and pleased when he see young warrior come back from the war path, with two, ten, hundred scalp on a pole! Chingachgook father take scalp—grandfather take scalp—all old chief take scalp, and Chingachgook take as many scalp as he can carry, himself!”

  “Then, Hist, his sleep, of nights, must be terrible to think of! No one can be cruel, and hope to be forgiven.”

  “No cruel—plenty forgiven—” returned Wah-ta!-Wah, stamping her little foot on the stony strand, and shaking her head in a way to show how completely feminine feeling, in one of its aspects, had gotten the better of feminine feeling in another. “I tell you, Serpent brave; he go home, this time, with four,—yes—two scalp.”

  “And is that his errand, here?—Did he really come all this distance, across mountain, and valley, rivers and lakes, to torment his fellow creatures, and do so wicked a thing?”

  This question at once appeased the growing ire of the half-offended Indian beauty. It completely got the better of the prejudices of education, and turned all her thoughts to a gentler and more feminine channel. At first, she looked around her, suspiciously, as if distrusting eaves-droppers; then she gazed wistfully into the face of her attentive companion; after which this exhibition of girlish coquetry and womanly feeling, terminated by her covering her face with both her hands, and laughing in a strain that might well be termed the melody of the woods. Dread of discovery, however, soon put a stop to this naïve exhibition of feeling, and removing her hands, this creature of impulses, gazed again wistfully into the face of her companion, as if inquiring how far she might trust a stranger with her secret. Although Hetty had no claims to her sister’s extraordinary beauty, many thought her countenance the most winning of the two. It expressed all the undisguised sincerity of her character, and it was totally free from any of the unpleasant physical accompaniments, that so frequently attend mental imbecility. It is true that one accustomed to closer observations than common, might have detected the proofs of her feebleness of intellect in the language of her sometimes vacant eyes, but they were signs that attracted sympathy by their total want of guile, rather than by any other feeling. The effect on Hist, to use the English and more familiar translation of the name, was favorable, and yielding to an impulse of tenderness, she threw her arms around Hetty, and embraced her with an outpouring emotion, so natural that it was only equalled by its warmth.

  “You good—” whispered the young Indian—“you good, I know; it so long since Wah-ta!-Wah have a friend—a sister—any body to speak her heart to! You Hist friend; do’n’t I say trut’?”

  “I never had a friend,” answered Hetty, returning the warm embrace with unfeigned earnestness. “I’ve a sister, but no friend. Judith loves me, and I love Judith; but that’s natural, and as we are taught in the bible—but I should like to have a friend! I’ll be your friend, with all my heart, for I like your voice and your smile, and your way of thinking in every thing, except about the scalps—”

  “No t’ink more of him—no say more of scalp—” interrupted Hist, soothingly—“You pale face, I red skin; we bring up different fashion. Deerslayer and Chingachgook great friend, and no the same colour, Hist and—what your name, pretty pale face?”

  “I am called Hetty, though when they spell the name in the bible, they always spell it, Esther.”

  “What that make?—no good, no harm. No need to spell name at all—Moravian try to make Wah-ta!-Wah spell, but no won’t let him. No good for Delaware girl to know too much—know more than warrior some time; that great shame. My name Wah-ta!-Wah—that say Hist in your tongue; you call him, Hist—I call him, Hetty.”

  These preliminaries settled to their mutual satisfaction, the two girls began to discourse of their several hopes and projects. Hetty made her new friend more fully acquainted with her intentions in behalf of her father, and, to one in the least addicted to prying into the affairs, Hist would have betrayed her own feelings and expectations in connection with the young warrior of her own tribe. Enough was revealed on both sides, however, to let each party get a tolerable insight into the views of the other, though enough still remained in mental reservation, to give rise to the following questions and answers, with which the interview in effect closed. As the quickest witted, Hist was the first with her interrogatories. Folding an arm about the waist of Hetty, she bent her head so as to look up playfully into the face of the other, and, laughing, as if her meaning were to be extracted from her looks, she spoke more plainly.

  “Hetty got broder, as well as fader?—” she said—“Why no talk of broder, as well as fader?”

  “I have no brother, Hist. I had one once, they say, but he is dead many a year, and lies buried in the lake, by the side of my mother.”

  “No got broder—got a young warrior—Love him, almost as much as fader, eh? Very handsome, and brave-looking; fit to be chief, if he good as he seem to be.”

  “It’s wicked to love any man as well as I love my father, and so I strive not to do it, Hist,” returned the conscientious Hetty, who knew not how to conceal an emotion, by an approach to an untruth as venial as an evasion, though powerfully tempted by female shame to err,
“though I sometimes think wickedness will get the better of me, if Hurry comes so often to the lake. I must tell you the truth, dear Hist, because you ask me, but I should fall down and die in the woods, if he knew it!”

  “Why he no ask you, himself?—Brave looking—why not bold speaking? Young warrior ought to ask young girl, no make young girl speak first. Mingo girls too shame for that.”

  This was said indignantly, and with the generous warmth a young female of spirit would be apt to feel, at what she deemed an invasion of her sex’s most valued privilege. It had little influence on the simple-minded, but also just-minded Hetty, who, though inherently feminine in all her impulses, was much more alive to the workings of her own heart, than to any of the usages with which convention has protected the sensitiveness of her sex.

  “Ask me what?” the startled girl demanded, with a suddenness that proved how completely her fears had been aroused. “Ask me, if I like him as well as I do my own father! Oh! I hope he will never put such a question to me, for I should have to answer, and that would kill me!”

  “No—no—no kill, quite—almost,” returned the other, laughing in spite of herself. “Make blush come—make shame come, too: but he no stay great while; then feel happier than ever. Young warrior must tell young girl he want to make wife, else never can live in his wigwam.”

  “Hurry do’n’t want to marry me—No body will ever want to marry me, Hist.”

  “How you can know? P’raps every body want to marry you, and by-and-bye, tongue say what heart feel. Why nobody want to marry you?”

  “I am not full witted, they say. Father often tells me this; and so does Judith, sometimes, when she is vexed; but I should’n’t so much mind them, as I did mother. She said so once; and then she cried as if her heart would break; and, so, I know I’m not full witted.”

  Hist gazed at the gentle, simple, girl, for quite a minute without speaking, and then the truth appeared to flash all at once on the mind of the young Indian maid. Pity, reverence and tenderness seemed struggling together in her breast, and then rising, suddenly, she indicated a wish to her companion that she would accompany her to the camp, which was situated at no great distance. This unexpected change from the precautions that Hist had previously manifested a desire to use, in order to prevent being seen, to an open exposure of the person of her friend, arose from the perfect conviction that no Indian would harm a being whom the Great Spirit had disarmed, by depriving it of its strongest defence, reason. In this respect, nearly all unsophisticated nations resemble each other, appearing to offer spontaneously, by a feeling creditable to human nature, that protection by their own forbearance, which has been withheld by the inscrutable wisdom of Providence. Wah-ta!-Wah, indeed, knew that, in many tribes, the mentally imbecile and the mad, were held in a species of religious reverence, receiving from these untutored inhabitants of the forest respect and honors, instead of the contumely and neglect that it is their fortune to meet with, among the more pretending and sophisticated.

  Hetty accompanied her new friend without apprehension, or reluctance. It was her wish to reach the camp, and, sustained by her motives, she felt no more concern for the consequences, than did her companion herself, now the latter was apprized of the character of the protection that the pale face maiden carried with her. Still, as they proceeded slowly along a shore that was tangled with overhanging bushes, Hetty continued the discourse, assuming the office of interrogating, which the other had instantly dropped, as soon as she ascertained the character of the mind to which her questions had been addressed.

  “But you are not half-witted,” said Hetty, “and there’s no reason why the Serpent should not marry you.”

  “Hist prisoner, and Mingo got big ear. No speak of Chingachgook when they by. Promise Hist that, good Hetty.”

  “I know—I know—” returned Hetty, half-whispering, in her eagerness to let the other see she understood the necessity of caution. “I know—Deerslayer and the Serpent mean to get you away from the Iroquois, and you wish me not to tell the secret.”

  “How you know?” said Hist, hastily, vexed at the moment, that the other was not even more feeble minded than was actually the case. “How you know? Better not talk of any but fader and Hurry—Mingo understand dat; he no understand t’udder. Promise you no talk about what you no understand.”

  “But I do understand this, Hist, and so I must talk about it. Deerslayer as good as told father all about it, in my presence, and as nobody told me not to listen, I overheard it all, as I did Hurry and father’s discourse about the scalps.”

  “Very bad for pale faces to talk about scalps, and very bad for young woman to hear! Now you love Hist, I know, Hetty, and so, among Injins, when love hardest never talk most.”

  “That’s not the way among white people, who talk most about them they love best. I suppose it’s because I’m only half-witted that I do’n’t see the reason why it should be so different among red people.”

  “That what Deerslayer call gift. One gift to talk; t’udder gift to hold tongue. Hold tongue your gift, among Mingos. If Sarpent want to see Hist, so Hetty want to see Hurry. Good girl never tell secret of friend.”

  Hetty understood this appeal, and she promised the Delaware girl not to make any allusion to the presence of Chingachgook, or to the motive of his visit to the lake.

  “Maybe he get off Hurry and fader, as well as Hist, if let him have his way,” whispered Wah-ta!-Wah to her companion, in a confiding flattering way, just as they got near enough to the encampment to hear the voices of several of their own sex, who were apparently occupied in the usual toils of women of their class. “T’ink of dat, Hetty, and put two, twenty finger on mouth. No get friend free without Sarpent do it.”

  A better expedient could not have been adopted, to secure the silence and discretion of Hetty, than that which was now presented to her mind. As the liberation of her father and the young frontier man was the great object of her adventure, she felt the connection between it and the services of the Delaware, and with an innocent laugh, she nodded her head, and in the same suppressed manner, promised a due attention to the wishes of her friend. Thus assured, Hist tarried no longer, but immediately and openly led the way into the encampment of her captors.

  Chapter XI

  —“The great King of Kings

  Hath in the table of his law commanded,

  That thou shalt do no murder.

  Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand,

  To hurl upon their heads that break his law.”

  —Richard III, I.iv.195–97, 199–200.

  * * *

  THAT THE PARTY to which Hist compulsorily belonged was not one that was regularly on the war path, was evident by the presence of females. It was a small fragment of a tribe that had been hunting and fishing within the English limits, where it was found by the commencement of hostilities, and, after passing the winter and spring by living on what was strictly the property of its enemies, it chose to strike a hostile blow before it finally retired. There was also deep Indian sagacity in the manoeuvre which had led them so far into the territory of their foes. When the runner arrived who announced the breaking out of hostilities between the English and French—a struggle that was certain to carry with it all the tribes that dwelt within the influence of the respective belligerents—this particular party of the Iroquois were posted on the shores of the Oneida, a lake that lies some fifty miles nearer to their own frontier than that which is the scene of our tale. To have fled in a direct line for the Canadas would have exposed them to the dangers of a direct pursuit, and the chiefs had determined to adopt the expedient of penetrating deeper into a region that had now become dangerous, in the hope of being able to retire in the rear of their pursuers, instead of having them on their trail. The presence of the women had induced the attempt at this ruse, the strength of these feebler members of the party being unequal to the effort of escaping from the pursuit of warriors. When the reader remembers the vast extent of the American wilde
rness, at that early day, he will perceive that it was possible for even a tribe to remain months undiscovered in particular portions of it; nor was the danger of encountering a foe, the usual precautions being observed, as great in the woods, as it is on the high seas, in a time of active warfare.

  The encampment being temporary, it offered to the eye no more than the rude protection of a bivouac, relieved in some slight degree by the ingenious expedients which suggested themselves to the readiness of those who passed their lives amid similar scenes. One fire, that had been kindled against the roots of a living oak, sufficed for the whole party; the weather being too mild to require it for any purpose but cooking. Scattered around this centre of attraction, were some fifteen or twenty low huts, or perhaps kennels would be a better word, into which their different owners crept at night, and which were also intended to meet the exigencies of a storm. These little huts were made of the branches of trees, put together with some ingenuity, and they were uniformly topped with bark that had been stripped from fallen trees; of which every virgin forest possesses hundreds, in all stages of decay. Of furniture they had next to none. Cooking utensils of the simplest sort were lying near the fire, a few articles of clothing were to be seen in, or around the huts, rifles, horns, and pouches leaned against the trees, or were suspended from the lower branches, and the carcases of two or three deer were stretched to view on the same natural shambles.

  As the encampment was in the midst of a dense wood, the eye could not take in its tout ensemble at a glance, but hut after hut started out of the gloomy picture, as one gazed about him in quest of objects. There was no centre, unless the fire might be so considered, no open area where the possessors of this rude village might congregate, but all was dark, covert and cunning, like its owners. A few children strayed, from hut to hut, giving the spot a little of the air of domestic life, and the suppressed laugh, and low voices of the women occasionally broke in upon the deep stillness of the sombre forest. As for the men, they either ate, slept, or examined their arms. They conversed but little, and then usually apart, or in groups withdrawn from the females, whilst an air of untiring, innate, watchfulness and apprehension of danger seemed to be blended even with their slumbers.