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

by James Fenimore Cooper

  “All that’s settled, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, in a low, confidential, and meaning manner; “and you may trust me to out-wit the best Indian of them all. I know I am feeble-minded, but I’ve got some sense, and you ’ll see how I’ll use it, in getting back, when my errand is done!”

  “Ahs! me, poor girl; I’m afeard all that’s easier said than done. They ’re a venomous set of riptyles, and their p’ison’s none the milder for the loss of Hist. Well, I’m glad the Sarpent was the one to get off with the gal; for now there’ll be two happy, at least; whereas, had he fallen into the hands of the Mingos, there’d been two miserable, and another far from feelin’ as a man likes to feel.”

  “Now you put me in mind of a part of my errand, that I had almost forgotten, Deerslayer. Judith told me to ask you what you thought the Hurons would do with you if you couldn’t be bought off, and what she had best do to serve you. Yes, this was the most important part of the errand --what she had best do in order to serve you.”

  “That’s as you think, Hetty; but it’s no matter. Young women are apt to lay most stress on what most touches their feelin’s; but no matter; have it your own way, so you be but careful not to let the vagabonds get the mastery of a canoe. When you get back to the ark, tell’em to keep close, and to keep moving too, most especially at night. Many hours can’t go by without the troops on the river hearing of this party, and then your fri’nds may look for relief. ’Tis but a day’s march from the nearest garrison, and true soldiers will never lie idle with the foe in their neighbourhood. This is my advice, and you may say to your father and Hurry that scalp-hunting will be a poor business now, as the Mingos are up and awake, and nothing can save ’em ’till the troops come, except keeping a good belt of water atween ’em and the savages.”

  “What shall I tell Judith about you, Deerslayer? I know she will send me back again, if I don’t bring her the truth about you.”

  “Then tell her the truth. I see no reason Judith Hutter shouldn’t hear the truth about me as well as a lie. I’m a captyve in Indian hands, and Providence only knows what will come of it! Hark’ee, Hetty--”dropping his voice and speaking still more confidentially, “you are a little weak-minded, it must be allowed, but you know something of Indians. Here I am in their hands, after having slain one of their stoutest warriors, and they’ve been endivouring to work upon me, through fear of consequences, to betray your father and all in the ark. I understand the blackguards as well as if they’d told it all out plainly with their tongues. They hold up avarice afore me on one side, and fear on t’other, and think honesty will give way atween ’em both. But let your father and Hurry know ’tis all useless; as for the Sarpent, he knows it already.”

  “But what shall I tell Judith?--She will certainly send me back if I don’t satisfy her mind.”

  “Well, tell Judith the same. No doubt the savages will try the torments to make me give in and to revenge the loss of their warrior, but I must hold out ag’in nat’ral weakness in the best manner I can. You may tell Judith to feel no consarn on my account--it will come hard I know, seeing that a white man’s gifts don’t run to boasting and singing under torment, for he generally feels smallest when he suffers most--but you may tell her not to have any consarn. I think I shall make out to stand it; and she may rely on this, let me give in as much as I may, and prove completely that I am white, by wailings, and howlings, and even tears, yet I’ll never fall so far as to betray my fri’nds. When it gets to burning holes in the flesh with heated ramrods, and to hacking the body, and tearing the hair out by the roots, natur’ may get the upperhand, so far as groans and complaints are consarned, but there the triumph of the vagabonds will end; nothing short of God’s abandoning him to the devils, can make an honest man ontrue to his colour and duty.”

  Hetty listened with great attention, and her mild but speaking countenance manifested a strong sympathy in the anticipated agony of the supposititious sufferer. At first she seemed at a loss how to act; then, taking a hand of Deerslayer’s, she affectionately recommended to him to borrow her Bible, and to read in it while the savages were inflicting their torments. When the other honestly admitted that it exceeded his power to read, she even volunteered to remain with him, and to perform this holy office in person. The offer was gently declined, and Rivenoak being about to join them, Deerslayer requested the girl to leave him, first enjoining her again to tell those in the ark to have full confidence in his fidelity. Hetty now walked away, and approached the group of females with as much confidence and self-possession as if she were a native of the tribe. On the other hand, the Huron resumed his seat by the side of his prisoner, the one continuing to ask questions with all the wily ingenuity of a practised Indian counsellor, and the other baffling him by the very means that are known to be the most efficacious in defeating the finesse of the more pretending diplomacy of civilization, or by confining his answers to the truth, and the truth only.

  CHAPTER III.

  “Thus died she; never more on her Shall sorrow light, or shame. She was not made

  Through years or moons the inner weight to bear,

  Which colder hearts endure till they are laid

  By age in earth; her days and pleasures were

  Brief but delightful--such as had not stayed

  Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well

  By the sea-shore whereon she loved to dwell.”

  Byron. The young men who had been sent out to reconnoitre, on the sudden appearance of Hetty, soon returned to report their want of success in making any discovery. One of them had even been along the beach as far as the spot opposite to the ark, but the darkness had completely concealed that vessel from his notice. Others had examined in different directions, and everywhere the stillness of night was added to the silence and solitude of the woods. It was consequently believed that the girl had come alone, as on her former visit, and on some similar errand. The Iroquois were ignorant that the ark had left the castle, and there were movements projected, if not in the course of actual execution by this time, which also greatly added to the sense of security. A watch was set, therefore, and all but the sentinels disposed themselves to sleep.

  Sufficient care was had to the safe keeping of the captive, without inflicting on him any unnecessary suffering; and, as for Hetty, she was permitted to find a place among the Indian girls, in the best manner she could. She did not find the friendly offices of Hist, though her character not only bestowed impunity from pain and captivity, but it procured for her a consideration and an attention that placed her, on the score of comfort, quite on a level with the wild but gentle beings around her. She was supplied with a skin, and made her own bed on a pile of boughs a little apart from the huts. Here she was soon in a profound sleep, like all around her.

  There were now thirteen men in the party, and three kept watch at a time. One remained in shadow, not far from the fire, however. His duty was to guard the captive, to take care that the fire neither blazed up so as to illuminate the spot, nor yet become wholly extinguished; and to keep an eye generally on the state of the camp. Another passed from one beach to the other, crossing the base of the point, while the third kept moving slowly around the strand on its outer extremity, to prevent a repetition of the surprise that had already taken place that night. This arrangement was far from being usual among savages, who ordinarily rely more on the secresy of their movements, than on vigilance of this nature; but it had been called for by the peculiarity of the circumstances in which the Hurons were now placed. Their position was known to their foes, and it could not easily be changed at an hour which demanded rest. Perhaps, too, they placed most of their confidence on the knowledge of what they believed to be passing higher up the lake, and which, it was thought, would fully occupy the whole of the pale-faces, who were at liberty, with their solitary Indian ally. It was also probable Rivenoak was aware, that, in holding his captive, he had in his own hands the most dangerous of all his enemies.

  The precision with which those a
ccustomed to watchfulness, or lives of disturbed rest, sleep, is not the least of the phenomena of our mysterious being. The head is no sooner on the pillow, than consciousness is lost; and yet, at a necessary hour, the mind appears to arouse the body, as promptly as if it had stood sentinel the while over it. There can be no doubt that they who are thus roused, awake by the influence of thought over matter, though the mode in which this influence is exercised must remain hidden from our curiosity, until it shall be explained, should that hour ever arrive, by the entire enlightenment of the soul, on the subject of all human mysteries. Thus it was with Hetty Hutter. Feeble as the immaterial portion of her existence was thought to be, it was sufficiently active to cause her to open her eyes at midnight. At that hour she awoke, and leaving her bed of skin and boughs, she walked innocently and openly to the embers of the fire, stirring the latter, as the coolness of the night and the woods, in connection with an exceedingly unsophisticated bed, had a little chilled her. As the flame shot up, it lighted the swarthy countenance of the Huron on watch, whose dark eyes glistened under its light, like the balls of the panther that is pursued to his den with burning brands. But Hetty felt no fear, and she approached the spot where the Indian stood. Her movements were so natural, and so perfectly devoid of any of the stealthiness of cunning, or deception, that he imagined she had merely arisen on account of the coolness of the night, a common occurrence in a bivouac, and the one of all others, perhaps, the least likely to excite suspicion. Hetty spoke to him, but he understood no English. She then gazed near a minute at the sleeping captive, and moved slowly away, in a sad and melancholy manner.

  The girl took no pains to conceal her movements. Any ingenious expedient of this nature, quite likely, exceeded her powers; still her step was habitually light, and scarcely audible. As she took the direction of the extremity of the point, or the place where she had landed in the first adventure, and where Hist had embarked, the sentinel saw her light form gradually disappear in the gloom without uneasiness, or changing his own position. He knew that others were on the look-out, and he did not believe that one who had twice come into the camp voluntarily, and had already left it openly, would take refuge in flight. In short, the conduct of the girl excited no more attention than that of any person of feeble intellect would excite in civilized society, while her person met with more consideration and respect.

  Hetty certainly had no very distinct notions of the localities, but she found her way to the beach, which she reached on the same side of the point as that on which the camp had been made. By following the margin of the water, taking a northern direction, she soon encountered the Indian, who paced the strand as sentinel. This was a young warrior, and when he heard her light tread coming along the gravel, he approached swiftly, though with any thing but menace in his manner. The darkness was so intense that it was not easy to discover forms, within the shadows of the woods, at the distance of twenty feet, and quite impossible to distinguish persons until near enough to touch them. The young Huron manifested disappointment when he found whom he had met; for, truth to say, he was expecting his favourite, who had promised to relieve the ennui of a midnight watch with her presence. This man was also ignorant of English, but he was at no loss to understand why the girl should be up at that hour. Such things were usual in an Indian village and camp, where sleep is as irregular as the meals. Then poor Hetty’s known imbecility, as in most things connected with the savages, stood her friend on this occasion. Vexed at his disappointment, and impatient of the presence of one he thought an intruder, the young warrior signed for the girl to move forward, holding the direction of the beach. Hetty complied; but, as she walked away, she spoke aloud in English, in her usual soft tones, which the stillness of the night made audible at some little distance.

  “If you took me for a Huron girl, warrior,” she said, “I don’t wonder you are so little pleased. I am Hetty Hutter, Thomas Hutter’s daughter, and have never met any man at night, for mother always said it was wrong, and modest young women should never do it; modest young women of the pale-faces, I mean; for customs are different in different parts of the world, I know. No, no; I’m Hetty Hutter, and wouldn’t meet even Hurry Harry, though he should fall down on his knees and ask me! mother said it was wrong.”

  By the time Hetty had said this, she reached the place where the canoes had come ashore, and, owing to the curvature of the land and the bushes, would have been completely hid from the sight of the sentinel, had it been broad day. But another footstep had caught the lover’s ear, and he was already nearly beyond the sound of the girl’s silvery voice. Still Hetty, bent only on her own thoughts and purposes, continued to speak, though the gentleness of her tones prevented the sounds from penetrating far into the woods. On the water they were more widely diffused.

  “Here I am, Judith,” she added, “and there is no one near me. The Huron on watch has gone to meet his sweetheart, who is an Indian girl, you know, and never had a Christian mother to tell her how wrong it is to meet a man at night--”

  Hetty’s voice was hushed by a “hist!” that came from the water, and then she caught a dim view of the canoe, which approached noiselessly, and soon grated on the shingle with its bow. The moment the weight of Hetty was felt in the light craft, the canoe withdrew, stern foremost, as if possessed of life and volition, until it was a hundred yards from the shore. Then it turned, and, making a wide sweep, as much to prolong the passage as to get beyond the sound of voices, it held its way towards the ark. For several minutes nothing was uttered; but, believing herself to be in a favourable position to confer with her sister, Judith, who alone sat in the stern, managing the canoe with a skill little short of that of a man, began a discourse, which she had been burning to commence ever since they had quitted the point.

  “Here we are safe, Hetty,” she said, “and may talk without the fear of being overheard. You must speak low, however, for sounds are heard far on the water, in a still night. I was so close to the point, some of the time, while you were on it, that I have heard the voices of the warriors, and I heard your shoes on the gravel of the beach, even before you spoke.”

  “I don’t believe, Judith, the Hurons know I have left them.”

  “Quite likely they do not, for a lover makes a poor sentry, unless it be to watch for his sweetheart! But tell me, Hetty, did you see and speak with Deerslayer?”

  “Oh, yes--there he was seated near the fire, with his legs tied, though they left his arms free, to move them as he pleased.”

  “Well, what did he tell you, child? Speak quick; I am dying to know what message he sent me.”

  “What did he tell me? why, what do you think, Judith; he told me that he couldn’t read! Only think of that! a white man, and not know how to read his bible, even! He never could have had a mother, sister!”

  “Never mind that, Hetty. All men can’t read; though mother knew so much, and taught us so much, father knows very little about books, and he can barely read the bible, you know.”

  “Oh! I never thought fathers could read much, but mothers ought all to read, else how can they teach their children? Depend on it, Judith, Deerslayer could never have had a mother, else he would know how to read.”

  “Did you tell him I sent you ashore, Hetty, and how much concern I feel for his misfortune?” asked the other, impatiently.

  “I believe I did, Judith; but you know I am feeble-minded, and I may have forgotten. I did tell him you brought me ashore. And he told me a great deal that I was to say to you, which I remember well, for it made my blood run cold to hear him. He told me to say that his friends--I suppose you are one of them, sister--?”

  “How can you torment me thus, Hetty! Certainly, I am one of the truest friends he has on earth.”

  “Torment you! yes, now I remember all about it. I am glad you used that word, Judith, for it brings it all back to my mind. Well, he said he might be tormented by the savages, but he would try to bear it as becomes a Christian white man, and that no one need be afeard--why does De
erslayer call it afeard, when mother always taught us to say afraid?”

  “Never mind, dear Hetty, never mind that, now,” cried the other, almost gasping for breath. “Did Deerslayer really tell you that he thought the savages would put him to the torture? Recollect now, well, Hetty, for this is a most awful and serious thing.”

  “Yes he did; and I remember it by your speaking about my tormenting you. Oh! I felt very sorry for him, and Deerslayer took all so quietly and without noise! Deerslayer is not as handsome as Hurry Harry, Judith, but he is more quiet.”

  “He’s worth a million Hurrys! yes, he’s worth all the young men who ever came upon the lake put together,” said Judith, with an energy and positiveness that caused her sister to wonder. “He is true.--There is no lie about Deerslayer. You, Hetty, may not know what a merit it is in a man to have truth, but when you get--no--I hope you will never know it. Why should one like you be ever made to learn the hard lesson to distrust and hate!”

  Judith bowed her face, dark as it was, and unseen as she must have been, by any eye but that of Omniscience, between her hands, and groaned. This sudden paroxysm of feeling, however, lasted but for a moment, and she continued more calmly, still speaking frankly to her sister, whose intelligence, and whose discretion in any thing that related to herself, she did not in the least distrust. Her voice, however, was low and husky, instead of having its former clearness and animation.

  “It is a hard thing to fear truth, Hetty,” she said; “and yet do I more dread Deerslayer’s truth, than any enemy! One cannot tamper with such truth -- so much honesty -- such obstinate uprightness! But we are not altogether unequal, sister--Deerslayer and I? He is not altogether my superior?”