“So spake the apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair.”
Paradise lost, I. 125-26.
Shortly after the disappearance of Judith, a light southerly air arose,
and Hutter set a large square sail, that had once been the flying
top-sail of an Albany sloop, but which having become threadbare in
catching the breezes of Tappan, had been condemned and sold. He had a
light, tough spar of tamarack that he could raise on occasion, and with
a little contrivance, his duck was spread to the wind in a sufficiently
professional manner. The effect on the ark was such as to supersede the
necessity of rowing; and in about two hours the castle was seen, in the
darkness, rising out of the water, at the distance of a hundred yards.
The sail was then lowered, and by slow degrees the scow drifted up to
the building, and was secured.
No one had visited the house since Hurry and his companion left it. The
place was found in the quiet of midnight, a sort of type of the solitude
of a wilderness. As an enemy was known to be near, Hutter directed his
daughters to abstain from the use of lights, luxuries in which they
seldom indulged during the warm months, lest they might prove beacons to
direct their foes where they might be found.
“In open daylight I shouldn't fear a host of savages behind these stout
logs, and they without any cover to skulk into,” added Hutter, when he
had explained to his guests the reasons why he forbade the use of light;
“for I've three or four trusty weapons always loaded, and Killdeer, in
particular, is a piece that never misses. But it's a different thing at
night. A canoe might get upon us unseen, in the dark; and the savages
have so many cunning ways of attacking, that I look upon it as bad
enough to deal with 'em under a bright sun. I built this dwelling in
order to have 'em at arm's length, in case we should ever get to
blows again. Some people think it's too open and exposed, but I'm for
anchoring out here, clear of underbrush and thickets, as the surest
means of making a safe berth.”
“You was once a sailor, they tell me, old Tom?” said Hurry, in his
abrupt manner, struck by one or two expressions that the other had just
used, “and some people believe you could give us strange accounts of
inimies and shipwrecks, if you'd a mind to come out with all you know?”
“There are people in this world, Hurry,” returned the other, evasively,
“who live on other men's thoughts; and some such often find their way
into the woods. What I've been, or what I've seen in youth, is of less
matter now than what the savages are. It's of more account to find out
what will happen in the next twenty-four hours than to talk over what
happened twenty-four years since.”
“That's judgment, Deerslayer; yes, that's sound judgment. Here's Judith
and Hetty to take care of, to say nothing of our own top-knots; and, for
my part, I can sleep as well in the dark as I could under a noonday sun.
To me it's no great matter whether there is light or not, to see to shut
my eyes by.”
As Deerslayer seldom thought it necessary to answer his companion's
peculiar vein of humor, and Hutter was evidently indisposed to dwell
longer on the subject, it's discussion ceased with this remark. The
latter had something more on his mind, however, than recollections. His
daughters had no sooner left them, with an expressed intention of going
to bed, than he invited his two companions to follow him again into the
scow. Here the old man opened his project, keeping back the portion that
he had reserved for execution by Hurry and himself.
“The great object for people posted like ourselves is to command the
water,” he commenced. “So long as there is no other craft on the lake,
a bark canoe is as good as a man-of-war, since the castle will not be
easily taken by swimming. Now, there are but five canoes remaining in
these parts, two of which are mine, and one is Hurry's. These three
we have with us here; one being fastened in the canoe-dock beneath the
house, and the other two being alongside the scow. The other canoes
are housed on the shore, in hollow logs, and the savages, who are such
venomous enemies, will leave no likely place unexamined in the morning,
if they 're serious in s'arch of bounties--”
“Now, friend Hutter,” interrupted Hurry, “the Indian don't live that
can find a canoe that is suitably wintered. I've done something at this
business before now, and Deerslayer here knows that I am one that can
hide a craft in such a way that I can't find it myself.”
“Very true, Hurry,” put in the person to whom the appeal had been made,
“but you overlook the sarcumstance that if you couldn't see the trail of
the man who did the job, I could. I'm of Master Hutter's mind, that
it's far wiser to mistrust a savage's ingenuity, than to build any great
expectations on his want of eye-sight. If these two canoes can be got
off to the castle, therefore, the sooner it's done the better.”
“Will you be of the party that's to do it?” demanded Hutter, in a way to
show that the proposal both surprised and pleased him.
“Sartain. I'm ready to enlist in any enterprise that's not ag'in a white
man's lawful gifts. Natur' orders us to defend our lives, and the lives
of others, too, when there's occasion and opportunity. I'll follow you,
Floating Tom, into the Mingo camp, on such an arr'nd, and will strive to
do my duty, should we come to blows; though, never having been tried in
battle, I don't like to promise more than I may be able to perform. We
all know our wishes, but none know their might till put to the proof.”
“That's modest and suitable, lad,” exclaimed Hurry. “You've never
yet heard the crack of an angry rifle; and, let me tell you, 'tis as
different from the persuasion of one of your venison speeches, as the
laugh of Judith Hutter, in her best humor, is from the scolding of a
Dutch house keeper on the Mohawk. I don't expect you'll prove much of a
warrior, Deerslayer, though your equal with the bucks and the does don't
exist in all these parts. As for the ra'al sarvice, however, you'll turn
out rather rearward, according to my consait.”
“We'll see, Hurry, we'll see,” returned the other, meekly; so far as
human eye could discover, not at all disturbed by these expressed doubts
concerning his conduct on a point on which men are sensitive, precisely
in the degree that they feel the consciousness of demerit; “having never
been tried, I'll wait to know, before I form any opinion of myself; and
then there'll be sartainty, instead of bragging. I've heard of them
that was valiant afore the fight, who did little in it; and of them that
waited to know their own tempers, and found that they weren't as bad as
some expected, when put to the proof.”
“At any rate, we know you can use a paddle, young man,” said Hutter,
“and that's all we shall ask of you to-night. Let us waste no more time,
but get into the canoe, and do, in place of talking.”
As Hutter led the way, in the execution of his project, the boat was
soon ready, with Hurry and Deerslayer at the paddles. Before the old man
embarked himself, however, he held a conference of several minutes with
Judith, entering the house for that purpose; then, returning, he took
his place in the canoe, which left the side of the ark at the next
instant.
Had there been a temple reared to God, in that solitary wilderness, its
clock would have told the hour of midnight as the party set forth on
their expedition. The darkness had increased, though the night was still
clear, and the light of the stars sufficed for all the purposes of the
adventurers. Hutter alone knew the places where the canoes were hid,
and he directed the course, while his two athletic companions raised
and dipped their paddles with proper caution, lest the sound should be
carried to the ears of their enemies, across that sheet of placid water,
in the stillness of deep night. But the bark was too light to require
any extraordinary efforts, and skill supplying the place of strength,
in about half an hour they were approaching the shore, at a point near a
league from the castle.
“Lay on your paddles, men,” said Hutter, in a low voice, “and let us
look about us for a moment. We must now be all eyes and ears, for these
vermin have noses like bloodhounds.”
The shores of the lake were examined closely, in order to discover any
glimmering of light that might have been left in a camp; and the men
strained their eyes, in the obscurity, to see if some thread of smoke
was not still stealing along the mountainside, as it arose from the
dying embers of a fire. Nothing unusual could be traced; and as the
position was at some distance from the outlet, or the spot where the
savages had been met, it was thought safe to land. The paddles were
plied again, and the bows of the canoe ground upon the gravelly beach
with a gentle motion, and a sound barely audible. Hutter and Hurry
immediately landed, the former carrying his own and his friend's rifle,
leaving Deerslayer in charge of the canoe. The hollow log lay a little
distance up the side of the mountain, and the old man led the way
towards it, using so much caution as to stop at every third or fourth
step, to listen if any tread betrayed the presence of a foe. The same
death-like stillness, however, reigned on the midnight scene, and the
desired place was reached without an occurrence to induce alarm.
“This is it,” whispered Hutter, laying a foot on the trunk of a fallen
linden; “hand me the paddles first, and draw the boat out with care, for
the wretches may have left it for a bait, after all.”
“Keep my rifle handy, butt towards me, old fellow,” answered March.
“If they attack me loaded, I shall want to unload the piece at 'em, at
least. And feel if the pan is full.”
“All's right,” muttered the other; “move slow, when you get your load,
and let me lead the way.”
The canoe was drawn out of the log with the utmost care, raised by Hurry
to his shoulder, and the two began to return to the shore, moving but
a step at a time, lest they should tumble down the steep declivity. The
distance was not great, but the descent was extremely difficult; and,
towards the end of their little journey, Deerslayer was obliged to land
and meet them, in order to aid in lifting the canoe through the bushes.
With his assistance the task was successfully accomplished, and the
light craft soon floated by the side of the other canoe. This was no
sooner done, than all three turned anxiously towards the forest and the
mountain, expecting an enemy to break out of the one, or to come rushing
down the other. Still the silence was unbroken, and they all embarked
with the caution that had been used in coming ashore.
Hutter now steered broad off towards the centre of the lake. Having got
a sufficient distance from the shore, he cast his prize loose, knowing
that it would drift slowly up the lake before the light southerly air,
and intending to find it on his return. Thus relieved of his tow, the
old man held his way down the lake, steering towards the very point
where Hurry had made his fruitless attempt on the life of the deer. As
the distance from this point to the outlet was less than a mile, it
was like entering an enemy's country; and redoubled caution became
necessary. They reached the extremity of the point, however, and landed
in safety on the little gravelly beach already mentioned. Unlike the
last place at which they had gone ashore, here was no acclivity to
ascend, the mountains looming up in the darkness quite a quarter of a
mile farther west, leaving a margin of level ground between them and the
strand. The point itself, though long, and covered with tall trees, was
nearly flat, and for some distance only a few yards in width. Hutter and
Hurry landed as before, leaving their companion in charge of the boat.
In this instance, the dead tree that contained the canoe of which they
had come in quest lay about half-way between the extremity of the narrow
slip of land and the place where it joined the main shore; and knowing
that there was water so near him on his left, the old man led the way
along the eastern side of the belt with some confidence walking boldly,
though still with caution. He had landed at the point expressly to get
a glimpse into the bay and to make certain that the coast was clear;
otherwise he would have come ashore directly abreast of the hollow tree.
There was no difficulty in finding the latter, from which the canoe
was drawn as before, and instead of carrying it down to the place where
Deerslayer lay, it was launched at the nearest favorable spot. As soon
as it was in the water, Hurry entered it, and paddled round to the
point, whither Hutter also proceeded, following the beach. As the
three men had now in their possession all the boats on the lake, their
confidence was greatly increased, and there was no longer the same
feverish desire to quit the shore, or the same necessity for extreme
caution. Their position on the extremity of the long, narrow bit of land
added to the feeling of security, as it permitted an enemy to approach
in only one direction, that in their front, and under circumstances that
would render discovery, with their habitual vigilance, almost certain.
The three now landed together, and stood grouped in consultation on the
gravelly point.
“We've fairly tree'd the scamps,” said Hurry, chuckling at their
success; “if they wish to visit the castle, let 'em wade or swim! Old
Tom, that idee of your'n, in burrowing out in the lake, was high proof,
and carries a fine bead. There be men who would think the land safer
than the water; but, after all, reason shows it isn't; the beaver, and
rats, and other l'arned creatur's taking to the last when hard pressed.
I call our position now, entrenched, and set the Canadas at defiance.”
“Let us paddle along this south shore,” said Hutter, “and see if there's
no sign of an encampment; but, first, let me have a better look into the
bay, for no one has been far enough round the inner shore of the point
to make suit of that quarter yet.”
As Hutter ceased speaking, all three moved in the direction he had
named. Scarce had they fairly opened the bottom of the bay, when a
general start proved that their eyes had lighted on a common object
at the same instant. It was no more than a dying brand, giving out its
flickering and failing light; but at that hour, and in that place, it
was at once as conspicuous as “a good deed in a naughty world.”
There was not a shadow of doubt that this fire had been kindled at an
encampment of the Indians. The situation, sheltered from observation on
all sides but one, and even on that except for a very short distance,
proved that more care had been taken to conceal the spot than would be
used for ordinary purposes, and Hutter, who knew that a spring was
near at hand, as well as one of the best fishing-stations on the lake,
immediately inferred that this encampment contained the women and
children of the party.
“That's not a warrior's encampment,” he growled to Hurry; “and there's
bounty enough sleeping round that fire to make a heavy division of
head-money. Send the lad to the canoes, for there'll come no good of him
in such an onset, and let us take the matter in hand at once, like men.”
“There's judgment in your notion, old Tom, and I like it to the
backbone. Deerslayer, do you get into the canoe, lad, and paddle off
into the lake with the spare one, and set it adrift, as we did with the
other; after which you can float along shore, as near as you can get to
the head of the bay, keeping outside the point, howsever, and outside
the rushes, too. You can hear us when we want you; and if there's any
delay, I'll call like a loon--yes, that'll do it--the call of a loon
shall be the signal. If you hear rifles, and feel like sogering, why,
you may close in, and see if you can make the same hand with the savages
that you do with the deer.”
“If my wishes could be followed, this matter would not be undertaken,
Hurry----”
“Quite true--nobody denies it, boy; but your wishes can't be followed;
and that inds the matter. So just canoe yourself off into the middle
of the lake, and by the time you get back there'll be movements in that
camp!”
The young man set about complying with great reluctance and a heavy
heart. He knew the prejudices of the frontiermen too well, however, to
attempt a remonstrance. The latter, indeed, under the circumstances,
might prove dangerous, as it would certainly prove useless. He paddled
the canoe, therefore, silently and with the former caution, to a spot
near the centre of the placid sheet of water, and set the boat just
recovered adrift, to float towards the castle, before the light
southerly air. This expedient had been adopted, in both cases, under
the certainty that the drift could not carry the light barks more than
a league or two, before the return of light, when they might easily be
overtaken in order to prevent any wandering savage from using them, by
swimming off and getting possession, a possible but scarcely a probable
event, all the paddles were retained.
No sooner had he set the recovered canoe adrift, than Deerslayer
turned the bows of his own towards the point on the shore that had been
indicated by Hurry. So light was the movement of the little craft,
and so steady the sweep of its master's arm, that ten minutes had not
elapsed ere it was again approaching the land, having, in that brief
time, passed over fully half a mile of distance. As soon as Deerslayer's
eye caught a glimpse of the rushes, of which there were many growing in
the water a hundred feet from the shore, he arrested the motion of
the canoe, and anchored his boat by holding fast to the delicate
but tenacious stem of one of the drooping plants. Here he remained,
awaiting, with an intensity of suspense that can be easily imagined, the
result of the hazardous enterprise.
It would be difficult to convey to the minds of those who have never
witnessed it, the sublimity that characterizes the silence of a solitude
as deep as that which now reigned over the Glimmerglass. In the present
instance, this sublimity was increased by the gloom of night, which
threw its shadowy and fantastic forms around the lake, the forest,
and the hills. It is not easy, indeed, to conceive of any place more
favorable to heighten these natural impressions, than that Deerslayer
now occupied. The size of the lake brought all within the reach of human
senses, while it displayed so much of the imposing scene at a single
view, giving up, as it might be, at a glance, a sufficiency to produce
the deepest impressions. As has been said, this was the first lake
Deerslayer had ever seen. Hitherto, his experience had been limited to
the courses of rivers and smaller streams, and never before had he seen
so much of that wilderness, which he so well loved, spread before
his gaze. Accustomed to the forest, however, his mind was capable
of portraying all its hidden mysteries, as he looked upon its leafy
surface. This was also the first time he had been on a trail where human
lives depended on the issue. His ears had often drunk in the traditions
of frontier warfare, but he had never yet been confronted with an enemy.
The reader will readily understand, therefore, how intense must have
been the expectation of the young man, as he sat in his solitary canoe,
endeavoring to catch the smallest sound that might denote the course of
things on shore. His training had been perfect, so far as theory could
go, and his self-possession, notwithstanding the high excitement, that
was the fruit of novelty, would have done credit to a veteran. The
visible evidences of the existence of the camp, or of the fire could not
be detected from the spot where the canoe lay, and he was compelled to
depend on the sense of hearing alone. He did not feel impatient, for
the lessons he had heard taught him the virtue of patience, and, most
of all, inculcated the necessity of wariness in conducting any covert
assault on the Indians. Once he thought he heard the cracking of a
dried twig, but expectation was so intense it might mislead him. In this
manner minute after minute passed, until the whole time since he left
his companions was extended to quite an hour. Deerslayer knew not
whether to rejoice in or to mourn over this cautious delay, for, if
it augured security to his associates, it foretold destruction to the
feeble and innocent.
It might have been an hour and a half after his companions and he had
parted, when Deerslayer was aroused by a sound that filled him equally
with concern and surprise. The quavering call of a loon arose from
the opposite side of the lake, evidently at no great distance from
its outlet. There was no mistaking the note of this bird, which is
so familiar to all who know the sounds of the American lakes. Shrill,
tremulous, loud, and sufficiently prolonged, it seems the very cry of
warning. It is often raised, also, at night, an exception to the habits
of most of the other feathered inmates of the wilderness; a circumstance
which had induced Hurry to select it as his own signal. There had been
sufficient time, certainly, for the two adventurers to make their way by
land from the point where they had been left to that whence the call had
come, but it was not probable that they would adopt such a course. Had
the camp been deserted they would have summoned Deerslayer to the shore,
and, did it prove to be peopled, there could be no sufficient motive
for circling it, in order to re-embark at so great a distance. Should he
obey the signal, and be drawn away from the landing, the lives of those
who depended on him might be the forfeit--and, should he neglect the
call, on the supposition that it had been really made, the consequences
might be equally disastrous, though from a different cause. In this
indecision he waited, trusting that the call, whether feigned or
natural, would be speedily renewed. Nor was he mistaken. A very few
minutes elapsed before the same shrill warning cry was repeated, and
from the same part of the lake. This time, being on the alert, his
senses were not deceived. Although he had often heard admirable
imitations of this bird, and was no mean adept himself in raising its
notes, he felt satisfied that Hurry, to whose efforts in that way he
had attended, could never so completely and closely follow nature. He
determined, therefore, to disregard that cry, and to wait for one less
perfect and nearer at hand.
Deerslayer had hardly come to this determination, when the profound
stillness of night and solitude was broken by a cry so startling, as to
drive all recollection of the more melancholy call of the loon from the
listener's mind. It was a shriek of agony, that came either from one
of the female sex, or from a boy so young as not yet to have attained a
manly voice. This appeal could not be mistaken. Heart rending terror--if
not writhing agony--was in the sounds, and the anguish that had awakened
them was as sudden as it was fearful. The young man released his hold
of the rush, and dashed his paddle into the water; to do, he knew
not what--to steer, he knew not whither. A very few moments, however,
removed his indecision. The breaking of branches, the cracking of
dried sticks, and the fall of feet were distinctly audible; the
sounds appearing to approach the water though in a direction that led
diagonally towards the shore, and a little farther north than the spot
that Deerslayer had been ordered to keep near. Following this clue,
the young man urged the canoe ahead, paying but little attention to the
manner in which he might betray its presence. He had reached a part of
the shore, where its immediate bank was tolerably high and quite steep.
Men were evidently threshing through the bushes and trees on the summit
of this bank, following the line of the shore, as if those who fled
sought a favorable place for descending. Just at this instant five or
six rifles flashed, and the opposite hills gave back, as usual, the
sharp reports in prolonged rolling echoes. One or two shrieks, like
those which escape the bravest when suddenly overcome by unexpected
anguish and alarm, followed; and then the threshing among the bushes was
renewed, in a way to show that man was grappling with man.
“Slippery devil!” shouted Hurry with the fury of disappointment--“his
skin's greased! I sha'n't grapple! Take that for your cunning!”
The words were followed by the fall of some heavy object among the
smaller trees that fringed the bank, appearing to Deerslayer as if his
gigantic associate had hurled an enemy from him in this unceremonious
manner. Again the flight and pursuit were renewed, and then the young
man saw a human form break down the hill, and rush several yards into
the water. At this critical moment the canoe was just near enough to the
spot to allow this movement, which was accompanied by no little noise,
to be seen, and feeling that there he must take in his companion, if
anywhere, Deerslayer urged the canoe forward to the rescue. His paddle
had not been raised twice, when the voice of Hurry was heard filling
the air with imprecations, and he rolled on the narrow beach, literally
loaded down with enemies. While prostrate, and almost smothered with
his foes, the athletic frontierman gave his loon-call, in a manner
that would have excited laughter under circumstances less terrific. The
figure in the water seemed suddenly to repent his own flight, and
rushed to the shore to aid his companion, but was met and immediately
overpowered by half a dozen fresh pursuers, who, just then, came leaping
down the bank.
“Let up, you painted riptyles--let up!” cried Hurry, too hard pressed to
be particular about the terms he used; “isn't it enough that I am withed
like a saw-log that ye must choke too!”
This speech satisfied Deerslayer that his friends were prisoners,
and that to land would be to share their fate. He was already within a
hundred feet of the shore, when a few timely strokes of the paddle not
only arrested his advance, but forced him off to six or eight times
that distance from his enemies. Luckily for him, all of the Indians had
dropped their rifles in the pursuit, or this retreat might not have been
effected with impunity; though no one had noted the canoe in the first
confusion of the melee.
“Keep off the land, lad,” called out Hutter; “the girls depend only on
you, now; you will want all your caution to escape these savages. Keep
off, and God prosper you, as you aid my children!”
There was little sympathy in general between Hutter and the young man,
but the bodily and mental anguish with which this appeal was made served
at the moment to conceal from the latter the former's faults. He saw
only the father in his sufferings, and resolved at once to give a pledge
of fidelity to its interests, and to be faithful to his word.
“Put your heart at ease, Master Hutter,” he called out; “the gals shall
be looked to, as well as the castle. The inimy has got the shore, 'tis
no use to deny, but he hasn't got the water. Providence has the charge
of all, and no one can say what will come of it; but, if good-will can
sarve you and your'n, depend on that much. My exper'ence is small, but
my will is good.”
“Ay, ay, Deerslayer,” returned Hurry, in this stentorian voice,
which was losing some of its heartiness, notwithstanding,--“Ay, ay,
Deerslayer. You mean well enough, but what can you do? You're no great
matter in the best of times, and such a person is not likely to turn
out a miracle in the worst. If there's one savage on this lake shore,
there's forty, and that's an army you ar'n't the man to overcome. The
best way, in my judgment, will be to make a straight course to the
castle; get the gals into the canoe, with a few eatables; then strike
off for the corner of the lake where we came in, and take the best trail
for the Mohawk. These devils won't know where to look for you for some
hours, and if they did, and went off hot in the pursuit, they must
turn either the foot or the head of the lake to get at you. That's my
judgment in the matter; and if old Tom here wishes to make his last will
and testament in a manner favorable to his darters, he'll say the same.”
“'Twill never do, young man,” rejoined Hutter. “The enemy has scouts out
at this moment, looking for canoes, and you'll be seen and taken. Trust
to the castle; and above all things, keep clear of the land. Hold out a
week, and parties from the garrisons will drive the savages off.”
“'Twon't be four-and-twenty hours, old fellow, afore these foxes will be
rafting off to storm your castle,” interrupted Hurry, with more of the
heat of argument than might be expected from a man who was bound and a
captive, and about whom nothing could be called free but his opinions
and his tongue. “Your advice has a stout sound, but it will have a fatal
tarmination. If you or I was in the house, we might hold out a few days,
but remember that this lad has never seen an inimy afore to-night, and is
what you yourself called settlement-conscienced; though for my part, I
think the consciences in the settlements pretty much the same as they
are out here in the woods. These savages are making signs, Deerslayer,
for me to encourage you to come ashore with the canoe; but that I'll
never do, as it's ag'in reason and natur'. As for old Tom and myself,
whether they'll scalp us to-night, keep us for the torture by fire,
or carry us to Canada, is more than any one knows but the devil that
advises them how to act. I've such a big and bushy head that it's quite
likely they'll indivor to get two scalps off it, for the bounty is a
tempting thing, or old Tom and I wouldn't be in this scrape. Ay--there
they go with their signs ag'in, but if I advise you to land may they eat
me as well as roast me. No, no, Deerslayer--do you keep off where you
are, and after daylight, on no account come within two hundred yards--”
This injunction of Hurry's was stopped by a hand being rudely slapped
against his mouth, the certain sign that some one in the party
sufficiently understood English to have at length detected the drift of
his discourse. Immediately after, the whole group entered the forest,
Hutter and Hurry apparently making no resistance to the movement. Just
as the sounds of the cracking bushes were ceasing, however, the voice of
the father was again heard.
“As you're true to my children, God prosper you, young man!” were the
words that reached Deerslayer's ears; after which he found himself left
to follow the dictates of his own discretion.
Several minutes elapsed, in death-like stillness, when the party on the
shore had disappeared in the woods. Owing to the distance--rather more
than two hundred yards--and the obscurity, Deerslayer had been able
barely to distinguish the group, and to see it retiring; but even this
dim connection with human forms gave an animation to the scene that was
strongly in contrast to the absolute solitude that remained. Although
the young man leaned forward to listen, holding his breath and
condensing every faculty in the single sense of hearing, not another
sound reached his ears to denote the vicinity of human beings. It seemed
as if a silence that had never been broken reigned on the spot again;
and, for an instant, even that piercing shriek, which had so lately
broken the stillness of the forest, or the execrations of March, would
have been a relief to the feeling of desertion to which it gave rise.
This paralysis of mind and body, however, could not last long in one
constituted mentally and physically like Deerslayer. Dropping his paddle
into the water, he turned the head of the canoe, and proceeded slowly,
as one walks who thinks intently, towards the centre of the lake. When
he believed himself to have reached a point in a line with that where
he had set the last canoe adrift, he changed his direction northward,
keeping the light air as nearly on his back as possible. After paddling
a quarter of a mile in this direction, a dark object became visible
on the lake, a little to the right; and turning on one side for the
purpose, he had soon secured his lost prize to his own boat. Deerslayer
now examined the heavens, the course of the air, and the position of the
two canoes. Finding nothing in either to induce a change of plan, he lay
down, and prepared to catch a few hours' sleep, that the morrow might
find him equal to its exigencies.
Although the hardy and the tired sleep profoundly, even in scenes of
danger, it was some time before Deerslayer lost his recollection. His
mind dwelt on what had passed, and his half-conscious faculties kept
figuring the events of the night, in a sort of waking dream. Suddenly
he was up and alert, for he fancied he heard the preconcerted signal of
Hurry summoning him to the shore. But all was still as the grave again.
The canoes were slowly drifting northward, the thoughtful stars were
glimmering in their mild glory over his head, and the forest-bound sheet
of water lay embedded between its mountains, as calm and melancholy as
if never troubled by the winds, or brightened by a noonday sun. Once
more the loon raised his tremulous cry, near the foot of the lake, and
the mystery of the alarm was explained. Deerslayer adjusted his hard
pillow, stretched his form in the bottom of the canoe, and slept.