“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore.
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal”
Childe Harold.
On the human imagination events produce the effects of time. Thus, he
who has travelled far and seen much is apt to fancy that he has lived
long; and the history that most abounds in important incidents soonest
assumes the aspect of antiquity. In no other way can we account for the
venerable air that is already gathering around American annals. When the
mind reverts to the earliest days of colonial history, the period seems
remote and obscure, the thousand changes that thicken along the links
of recollections, throwing back the origin of the nation to a day so
distant as seemingly to reach the mists of time; and yet four lives of
ordinary duration would suffice to transmit, from mouth to mouth, in the
form of tradition, all that civilized man has achieved within the
limits of the republic. Although New York alone possesses a population
materially exceeding that of either of the four smallest kingdoms of
Europe, or materially exceeding that of the entire Swiss Confederation,
it is little more than two centuries since the Dutch commenced their
settlement, rescuing the region from the savage state. Thus, what seems
venerable by an accumulation of changes is reduced to familiarity when
we come seriously to consider it solely in connection with time.
This glance into the perspective of the past will prepare the reader to
look at the pictures we are about to sketch, with less surprise than he
might otherwise feel; and a few additional explanations may carry him
back in imagination to the precise condition of society that we desire
to delineate. It is matter of history that the settlements on the
eastern shores of the Hudson, such as Claverack, Kinderhook, and even
Poughkeepsie, were not regarded as safe from Indian incursions a century
since; and there is still standing on the banks of the same river, and
within musket-shot of the wharves of Albany, a residence of a younger
branch of the Van Rensselaers, that has loopholes constructed for
defence against the same crafty enemy, although it dates from a period
scarcely so distant. Other similar memorials of the infancy of the
country are to be found, scattered through what is now deemed the very
centre of American civilization, affording the plainest proofs that all
we possess of security from invasion and hostile violence is the growth
of but little more than the time that is frequently fulfilled by a
single human life.
The incidents of this tale occurred between the years 1740 and 1745,
when the settled portions of the colony of New York were confined to
the four Atlantic counties, a narrow belt of country on each side of the
Hudson, extending from its mouth to the falls near its head, and to
a few advanced “neighborhoods” on the Mohawk and the Schoharie. Broad
belts of the virgin wilderness not only reached the shores of the first
river, but they even crossed it, stretching away into New England, and
affording forest covers to the noiseless moccasin of the native warrior,
as he trod the secret and bloody war-path. A bird's-eye view of the
whole region east of the Mississippi must then have offered one
vast expanse of woods, relieved by a comparatively narrow fringe of
cultivation along the sea, dotted by the glittering surfaces of lakes,
and intersected by the waving lines of river. In such a vast picture of
solemn solitude, the district of country we design to paint sinks into
insignificance, though we feel encouraged to proceed by the conviction
that, with slight and immaterial distinctions, he who succeeds in giving
an accurate idea of any portion of this wild region must necessarily
convey a tolerably correct notion of the whole.
Whatever may be the changes produced by man, the eternal round of the
seasons is unbroken. Summer and winter, seed-time and harvest, return in
their stated order with a sublime precision, affording to man one of the
noblest of all the occasions he enjoys of proving the high powers of
his far-reaching mind, in compassing the laws that control their exact
uniformity, and in calculating their never-ending revolutions.
Centuries of summer suns had warmed the tops of the same noble oaks and
pines, sending their heats even to the tenacious roots, when voices were
heard calling to each other, in the depths of a forest, of which the
leafy surface lay bathed in the brilliant light of a cloudless day
in June, while the trunks of the trees rose in gloomy grandeur in the
shades beneath. The calls were in different tones, evidently proceeding
from two men who had lost their way, and were searching in different
directions for their path. At length a shout proclaimed success, and
presently a man of gigantic mould broke out of the tangled labyrinth
of a small swamp, emerging into an opening that appeared to have been
formed partly by the ravages of the wind, and partly by those of fire.
This little area, which afforded a good view of the sky, although it was
pretty well filled with dead trees, lay on the side of one of the high
hills, or low mountains, into which nearly the whole surface of the
adjacent country was broken.
“Here is room to breathe in!” exclaimed the liberated forester, as soon
as he found himself under a clear sky, shaking his huge frame like a
mastiff that has just escaped from a snowbank. “Hurrah! Deerslayer; here
is daylight, at last, and yonder is the lake.”
These words were scarcely uttered when the second forester dashed
aside the bushes of the swamp, and appeared in the area. After making
a hurried adjustment of his arms and disordered dress, he joined his
companion, who had already begun his disposition for a halt.
“Do you know this spot!” demanded the one called Deerslayer, “or do you
shout at the sight of the sun?”
“Both, lad, both; I know the spot, and am not sorry to see so useful
a fri'nd as the sun. Now we have got the p'ints of the compass in our
minds once more, and 't will be our own faults if we let anything turn
them topsy-turvy ag'in, as has just happened. My name is not Hurry
Harry, if this be not the very spot where the land-hunters camped the
last summer, and passed a week. See I yonder are the dead bushes of
their bower, and here is the spring. Much as I like the sun, boy, I've
no occasion for it to tell me it is noon; this stomach of mine is as
good a time-piece as is to be found in the colony, and it already p'ints
to half-past twelve. So open the wallet, and let us wind up for another
six hours' run.”
At this suggestion, both set themselves about making the preparations
necessary for their usual frugal but hearty meal. We will profit by this
pause in the discourse to give the reader some idea of the appearance of
the men, each of whom is destined to enact no insignificant part in our
legend.
It would not have been easy to find a more noble specimen of vigorous
manhood than was offered in the person of him who called himself Hurry
Harry. His real name was Henry March but the frontiersmen having caught
the practice of giving sobriquets from the Indians, the appellation of
Hurry was far oftener applied to him than his proper designation, and
not unfrequently he was termed Hurry Skurry, a nickname he had obtained
from a dashing, reckless offhand manner, and a physical restlessness
that kept him so constantly on the move, as to cause him to be known
along the whole line of scattered habitations that lay between the
province and the Canadas. The stature of Hurry Harry exceeded six feet
four, and being unusually well proportioned, his strength fully realized
the idea created by his gigantic frame. The face did no discredit to the
rest of the man, for it was both good-humored and handsome. His air was
free, and though his manner necessarily partook of the rudeness of a
border life, the grandeur that pervaded so noble a physique prevented it
from becoming altogether vulgar.
Deerslayer, as Hurry called his companion, was a very different person
in appearance, as well as in character. In stature he stood about
six feet in his moccasins, but his frame was comparatively light and
slender, showing muscles, however, that promised unusual agility, if not
unusual strength. His face would have had little to recommend it except
youth, were it not for an expression that seldom failed to win upon
those who had leisure to examine it, and to yield to the feeling of
confidence it created. This expression was simply that of guileless
truth, sustained by an earnestness of purpose, and a sincerity of
feeling, that rendered it remarkable. At times this air of integrity
seemed to be so simple as to awaken the suspicion of a want of the
usual means to discriminate between artifice and truth; but few came in
serious contact with the man, without losing this distrust in respect
for his opinions and motives.
Both these frontiersmen were still young, Hurry having reached the
age of six or eight and twenty, while Deerslayer was several years his
junior. Their attire needs no particular description, though it may
be well to add that it was composed in no small degree of dressed
deer-skins, and had the usual signs of belonging to those who pass their
time between the skirts of civilized society and the boundless forests.
There was, notwithstanding, some attention to smartness and the
picturesque in the arrangements of Deerslayer's dress, more particularly
in the part connected with his arms and accoutrements. His rifle was in
perfect condition, the handle of his hunting-knife was neatly carved,
his powder-horn was ornamented with suitable devices lightly cut into
the material, and his shot-pouch was decorated with wampum.
On the other hand, Hurry Harry, either from constitutional recklessness,
or from a secret consciousness how little his appearance required
artificial aids, wore everything in a careless, slovenly manner, as
if he felt a noble scorn for the trifling accessories of dress and
ornaments. Perhaps the peculiar effect of his fine form and great
stature was increased rather than lessened, by this unstudied and
disdainful air of indifference.
“Come, Deerslayer, fall to, and prove that you have a Delaware stomach,
as you say you have had a Delaware edication,” cried Hurry, setting the
example by opening his mouth to receive a slice of cold venison steak
that would have made an entire meal for a European peasant; “fall to,
lad, and prove your manhood on this poor devil of a doe with your teeth,
as you've already done with your rifle.”
“Nay, nay, Hurry, there's little manhood in killing a doe, and that too
out of season; though there might be some in bringing down a painter
or a catamount,” returned the other, disposing himself to comply. “The
Delawares have given me my name, not so much on account of a bold heart,
as on account of a quick eye, and an actyve foot. There may not be any
cowardyce in overcoming a deer, but sartain it is, there's no great
valor.”
“The Delawares themselves are no heroes,” muttered Hurry through his
teeth, the mouth being too full to permit it to be fairly opened, “or
they would never have allowed them loping vagabonds, the Mingos, to make
them women.”
“That matter is not rightly understood--has never been rightly
explained,” said Deerslayer earnestly, for he was as zealous a friend as
his companion was dangerous as an enemy; “the Mengwe fill the woods with
their lies, and misconstruct words and treaties. I have now lived ten
years with the Delawares, and know them to be as manful as any other
nation, when the proper time to strike comes.”
“Harkee, Master Deerslayer, since we are on the subject, we may as
well open our minds to each other in a man-to-man way; answer me one
question; you have had so much luck among the game as to have gotten
a title, it would seem, but did you ever hit anything human or
intelligible: did you ever pull trigger on an inimy that was capable of
pulling one upon you?”
This question produced a singular collision between mortification and
correct feeling, in the bosom of the youth, that was easily to be traced
in the workings of his ingenuous countenance. The struggle was short,
however; uprightness of heart soon getting the better of false pride and
frontier boastfulness.
“To own the truth, I never did,” answered Deerslayer; “seeing that a
fitting occasion never offered. The Delawares have been peaceable since
my sojourn with 'em, and I hold it to be onlawful to take the life of
man, except in open and generous warfare.”
“What! did you never find a fellow thieving among your traps and
skins, and do the law on him with your own hands, by way of saving the
magistrates trouble in the settlements, and the rogue himself the cost
of the suit!”
“I am no trapper, Hurry,” returned the young man proudly: “I live by the
rifle, a we'pon at which I will not turn my back on any man of my years,
atween the Hudson and the St. Lawrence. I never offer a skin that has
not a hole in its head besides them which natur' made to see with or to
breathe through.”
“Ay, ay, this is all very well, in the animal way, though it makes but a
poor figure alongside of scalps and ambushes. Shooting an Indian from an
ambush 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
character, 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 practice 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
the land they own.”
“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 sile
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 muskrat's human natar', 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 again that enjoyed it best in a corner. Some
men have no peace if they don't find plunder, and some if they do. Human
nature' 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 half-grown 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 friends,
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
ribbon! 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 lightmindedness.”
“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 insartainty 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 again.”
“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 particulars; keeping as true
to education 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 cussing. 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 in the
manner 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 right. 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 not 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 does not know how. 'Compass'for the p'int, and 'meant us' for
the intention. No, poor Hetty is what I call on the verge 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 red-skins honor 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 unknown 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 frontiersmen--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 encourage 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 not 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'd be
like to know the pleasures of widowhood afore she is twenty!”
“You would not harm the man she has 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 a 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 grip, 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 a friend.”
“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 plaindealing 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 man. 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 Lord have
Marcy on 'em. Howsoever, 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 maybe a winning creatur' it touches all the pitiful thoughts
his natur' has. God knows, Hurry, that such poor things be defenceless
enough with all their wits about 'em; but it's a cruel fortun' when that
great protector and guide fails 'em.”
“Hark, 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, however, 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
again, 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 travelers shouldered their packs, resumed their
arms, and, quitting the little area of light, they again plunged into
the deep shadows of the forest.