“Upon two stony tables, spread before her,
She lean'd her bosom, more than stony hard,
There slept th' impartial judge, and strict restorer
Of wrong, or right, with pain or with reward;
There hung the score of all our debts, the card
Where good, and bad, and life, and death, were painted;
Was never heart of mortal so untainted,
But when the roll was read, with thousand terrors fainted.”
Giles Fletcher, Christ's Victory in Heaven, lxv.
“We've done an unthoughtful thing, Sarpent--yes, Judith, we've done an
unthoughtful thing in taking life with an object no better than vanity!”
exclaimed Deerslayer, when the Delaware held up the enormous bird, by
its wings, and exhibited the dying eyes riveted on its enemies with
the gaze that the helpless ever fasten on their destroyers. “'Twas more
becomin' two boys to gratify their feelin's in this onthoughtful manner,
than two warriors on a warpath, even though it be their first. Ah's!
me; well, as a punishment I'll quit you at once, and when I find myself
alone with them bloody-minded Mingos, it's more than like I'll have
occasion to remember that life is sweet, even to the beasts of the woods
and the fowls of the air. There, Judith; there's Kildeer; take him back,
ag'in, and keep him for some hand that's more desarving to own such a
piece.”
“I know of none as deserving as your own, Deerslayer,” answered the girl
in haste; “none but yours shall keep the rifle.”
“If it depended on skill, you might be right enough, gal, but we should
know when to use firearms, as well as how to use 'em. I haven't l'arnt
the first duty yet, it seems; so keep the piece till I have. The sight
of a dyin' and distressed creatur', even though it be only a bird,
brings wholesome thoughts to a man who don't know how soon his own time
may come, and who is pretty sartain that it will come afore the sun
sets; I'd give back all my vain feelin's, and rej'icin's in hand and
eye, if that poor eagle was only on its nest ag'in, with its young,
praisin' the Lord for anything that we can know about the matter, for
health and strength!”
The listeners were confounded with this proof of sudden repentance in
the hunter, and that too for an indulgence so very common, that men
seldom stop to weigh its consequences, or the physical suffering it may
bring on the unoffending and helpless. The Delaware understood what was
said, though he scarce understood the feelings which had prompted the
words, and by way of disposing of the difficulty, he drew his keen
knife, and severed the head of the sufferer from its body.
“What a thing is power!” continued the hunter, “and what a thing it is
to have it, and not to know how to use it. It's no wonder, Judith, that
the great so often fail of their duties, when even the little and the
humble find it so hard to do what's right, and not to do what's wrong.
Then, how one evil act brings others a'ter it! Now, wasn't it for this
furlough of mine, which must soon take me back to the Mingos, I'd find
this creatur's nest, if I travelled the woods a fortnight--though
an eagle's nest is soon found by them that understands the bird's
natur',--but I'd travel a fortnight rather than not find it, just to put
the young, too, out of their pain.”
“I'm glad to hear you say this, Deerslayer,” observed Hetty, “and God
will be more apt to remember your sorrow for what you've done, than the
wickedness itself. I thought how wicked it was to kill harmless birds,
while you were shooting, and meant to tell you so; but, I don't know how
it happened,--I was so curious to see if you could hit an eagle at so
great a height, that I forgot altogether to speak, 'till the mischief
was done.”
“That's it; that's just it, my good Hetty. We can all see our faults and
mistakes when it's too late to help them! Howsever I'm glad you didn't
speak, for I don't think a word or two would have stopped me, just at
that moment, and so the sin stands in its nakedness, and not aggravated
by any unheeded calls to forbear. Well, well, bitter thoughts are hard
to be borne at all times, but there's times when they're harder than at
others.”
Little did Deerslayer know, while thus indulging in feelings that
were natural to the man, and so strictly in accordance with his
own unsophisticated and just principles, that, in the course of the
inscrutable providence, which so uniformly and yet so mysteriously
covers all events with its mantle, the very fault he was disposed so
severely to censure was to be made the means of determining his own
earthly fate. The mode and the moment in which he was to feel the
influence of this interference, it would be premature to relate, but
both will appear in the course of the succeeding chapters. As for
the young man, he now slowly left the Ark, like one sorrowing for his
misdeeds, and seated himself in silence on the platform. By this time
the sun had ascended to some height, and its appearance, taken in
connection with his present feelings, induced him to prepare to depart.
The Delaware got the canoe ready for his friend, as soon as apprised of
his intention, while Hist busied herself in making the few arrangements
that were thought necessary to his comfort. All this was done without
ostentation, but in a way that left Deerslayer fully acquainted with,
and equally disposed to appreciate, the motive. When all was ready, both
returned to the side of Judith and Hetty, neither of whom had moved from
the spot where the young hunter sat.
“The best fri'nds must often part,” the last began, when he saw the
whole party grouped around him--“yes, fri'ndship can't alter the ways
of Providence, and let our feelin's be as they may, we must part. I've
often thought there's moments when our words dwell longer on the mind
than common, and when advice is remembered, just because the mouth that
gives it isn't likely to give it ag'in. No one knows what will happen in
this world, and therefore it may be well, when fri'nds separate under a
likelihood that the parting may be long, to say a few words in kindness,
as a sort of keepsakes. If all but one will go into the Ark, I'll talk
to each in turn, and what is more, I'll listen to what you may have to
say back ag'in, for it's a poor counsellor that won't take as well as
give.”
As the meaning of the speaker was understood, the two Indians
immediately withdrew as desired, leaving the sisters, however, still
standing at the young man's side. A look of Deerslayer's induced Judith
to explain.
“You can advise Hetty as you land,” she said hastily, “for I intend that
she shall accompany you to the shore.”
“Is this wise, Judith? It's true, that under common sarcumstances
a feeble mind is a great protection among red-skins, but when their
feelin's are up, and they're bent on revenge, it's hard to say what may
come to pass. Besides--”
“What were you about to say, Deerslayer?” asked Judith, whose gentleness
of voice and manner amounted nearly to tenderness, though she struggled
hard to keep her emotions and apprehensions in subjection.
“Why, simply that there are sights and doin's that one even as little
gifted with reason and memory as Hetty here, might better not witness.
So, Judith, you would do well to let me land alone, and to keep your
sister back.”
“Never fear for me, Deerslayer,” put in Hetty, who comprehended enough
of the discourse to know its general drift, “I'm feeble minded, and that
they say is an excuse for going anywhere; and what that won't excuse,
will be overlooked on account of the Bible I always carry. It is
wonderful, Judith, how all sorts of men; the trappers as well as the
hunters; red-men as well as white; Mingos as well as Delawares do
reverence and fear the Bible!”
“I think you have not the least ground to fear any injury, Hetty,”
answered the sister, “and therefore I shall insist on your going to the
Huron camp with our friend. Your being there can do no harm, not even to
yourself, and may do great good to Deerslayer.”
“This is not a moment, Judith, to dispute, and so have the matter your
own way,” returned the young man. “Get yourself ready, Hetty, and go
into the canoe, for I've a few parting words to say to your sister,
which can do you no good.”
Judith and her companion continued silent, until Hetty had so far
complied as to leave them alone, when Deerslayer took up the subject,
as if it had been interrupted by some ordinary occurrence, and in a very
matter of fact way.
“Words spoken at parting, and which may be the last we ever hear from a
fri'nd are not soon forgotten,” he repeated, “and so Judith, I intend
to speak to you like a brother, seein' I'm not old enough to be your
father. In the first place, I wish to caution you ag'in your inimies,
of which two may be said to ha'nt your very footsteps, and to beset your
ways. The first is oncommon good looks, which is as dangerous a foe
to some young women, as a whole tribe of Mingos could prove, and which
calls for great watchfulness--not to admire and praise--but to distrust
and sarcumvent. Yes, good looks may be sarcumvented, and fairly
outwitted, too. In order to do this you've only to remember that they
melt like the snows, and, when once gone, they never come back ag'in.
The seasons come and go, Judith, and if we have winter, with storms and
frosts, and spring with chills and leafless trees, we have summer with
its sun and glorious skies, and fall with its fruits, and a garment
thrown over the forest, that no beauty of the town could rummage out of
all the shops in America. 'Arth is in an etarnal round, the goodness of
God bringing back the pleasant when we've had enough of the onpleasant.
But it's not so with good looks. They are lent for a short time in
youth, to be used and not abused, and, as I never met with a young woman
to whom providence has been as bountiful as it has to you, Judith, in
this partic'lar, I warn you, as it might be with my dyin' breath, to
beware of the inimy--fri'nd, or inimy, as we deal with the gift.”
It was so grateful to Judith to hear these unequivocal admissions of her
personal charms, that much would have been forgiven to the man who
made them, let him be who he might. But, at that moment, and from a far
better feeling, it would not have been easy for Deerslayer seriously
to offend her, and she listened with a patience, which, had it been
foretold only a week earlier, it would have excited her indignation to
hear.
“I understand your meaning, Deerslayer,” returned the girl, with a
meekness and humility that a little surprised her listener, “and hope to
be able to profit by it. But, you have mentioned only one of the enemies
I have to fear; who, or what is the other.”
“The other is givin' way afore your own good sense and judgment, I
find, Judith; yes, he's not as dangerous as I supposed. Howsever, havin'
opened the subject, it will be as well to end it honestly. The first
inimy you have to be watchful of, as I've already told you, Judith,
is oncommon good looks, and the next is an oncommon knowledge of the
sarcumstance. If the first is bad, the last doesn't, in any way, mend
the matter, so far as safety and peace of mind are consarned.”
How much longer the young man would have gone on in his simple and
unsuspecting, but well intentioned manner, it might not be easy to say,
had he not been interrupted by his listener's bursting into tears, and
giving way to an outbreak of feeling, which was so much the more violent
from the fact that it had been with so much difficulty suppressed. At
first her sobs were so violent and uncontrollable that Deerslayer was a
little appalled, and he was abundantly repentant from the instant that
he discovered how much greater was the effect produced by his words than
he had anticipated. Even the austere and exacting are usually appeased
by the signs of contrition, but the nature of Deerslayer did not require
proofs of intense feelings so strong in order to bring him down to a
level with the regrets felt by the girl herself. He arose, as if an
adder had stung him, and the accents of the mother that soothes her
child were scarcely more gentle and winning than the tones of his voice,
as he now expressed his contrition at having gone so far.
“It was well meant, Judith,” he said, “but it was not intended to hurt
your feelin's so much. I have overdone the advice, I see; yes, I've
overdone it, and I crave your pardon for the same. Fri'ndship's an awful
thing! Sometimes it chides us for not having done enough; and then,
ag'in it speaks in strong words for havin' done too much. Howsever, I
acknowledge I've overdone the matter, and as I've a ra'al and strong
regard for you, I rej'ice to say it, inasmuch as it proves how much
better you are, than my own vanity and consaits had made you out to be.”
Judith now removed her hands from her face, her tears had ceased, and
she unveiled a countenance so winning with the smile which rendered
it even radiant, that the young man gazed at her, for a moment, with
speechless delight.
“Say no more, Deerslayer,” she hastily interposed; “it pains me to hear
you find fault with yourself. I know my own weakness, all the better,
now I see that you have discovered it; the lesson, bitter as I have
found it for a moment, shall not be forgotten. We will not talk any
longer of these things, for I do not feel myself brave enough for the
undertaking, and I should not like the Delaware, or Hist, or even Hetty,
to notice my weakness. Farewell, Deerslayer; may God bless and protect
you as your honest heart deserves blessings and protection, and as I
must think he will.”
Judith had so far regained the superiority that properly belonged to her
better education, high spirit, and surpassing personal advantages, as
to preserve the ascendancy she had thus accidentally obtained, and
effectually prevented any return to the subject that was as singularly
interrupted, as it had been singularly introduced. The young man
permitted her to have every thing her own way, and when she pressed his
hard hand in both her own, he made no resistance, but submitted to the
homage as quietly, and with quite as matter of course a manner, as a
sovereign would have received a similar tribute from a subject, or the
mistress from her suitor. Feeling had flushed the face and illuminated
the whole countenance of the girl, and her beauty was never more
resplendant than when she cast a parting glance at the youth. That
glance was filled with anxiety, interest and gentle pity. At the next
instant, she darted into the hut and was seen no more, though she spoke
to Hist from a window, to inform her that their friend expected her
appearance.
“You know enough of red-skin natur', and red-skin usages, Wah-ta-Wah,
to see the condition I am in on account of this furlough,” commenced the
hunter in Delaware, as soon as the patient and submissive girl of
that people had moved quietly to his side; “you will therefore best
onderstand how onlikely I am ever to talk with you ag'in. I've but
little to say; but that little comes from long livin' among your people,
and from havin' obsarved and noted their usages. The life of a woman is
hard at the best, but I must own, though I'm not opinionated in favor of
my own colour, that it is harder among the red men than it is among
the pale-faces. This is a p'int on which Christians may well boast, if
boasting can be set down for Christianity in any manner or form, which I
rather think it cannot. Howsever, all women have their trials. Red women
have their'n in what I should call the nat'ral way, while white women
take 'em innoculated like. Bear your burthen, Hist, becomingly, and
remember if it be a little toilsome, how much lighter it is than that of
most Indian women. I know the Sarpent well--what I call cordially--and
he will never be a tyrant to any thing he loves, though he will expect
to be treated himself like a Mohican Chief. There will be cloudy days
in your lodge I suppose, for they happen under all usages, and among all
people, but, by keepin' the windows of the heart open there will always
be room for the sunshine to enter. You come of a great stock yourself,
and so does Chingachgook. It's not very likely that either will ever
forget the sarcumstance and do any thing to disgrace your forefathers.
Nevertheless, likin' is a tender plant, and never thrives long when
watered with tears. Let the 'arth around your married happiness be
moistened by the dews of kindness.”
“My pale brother is very wise; Wah will keep in her mind all that his
wisdom tells her.”
“That's judicious and womanly, Hist. Care in listening, and
stout-heartedness in holding to good counsel, is a wife's great
protection. And, now, ask the Sarpent to come and speak with me, for a
moment, and carry away with you all my best wishes and prayers. I shall
think of you, Hist, and of your intended husband, let what may come to
pass, and always wish you well, here and hereafter, whether the last is
to be according to Indian idees, or Christian doctrines.”
Hist shed no tear at parting. She was sustained by the high resolution
of one who had decided on her course, but her dark eyes were luminous
with the feelings that glowed within, and her pretty countenance beamed
with an expression of determination that was in marked and singular
contrast to its ordinary gentleness. It was but a minute ere the
Delaware advanced to the side of his friend with the light, noiseless
tread of an Indian.
“Come this-a-way, Sarpent, here more out of sight of the women,”
commenced the Deerslayer, “for I've several things to say that mustn't
so much as be suspected, much less overheard. You know too well
the natur' of furloughs and Mingos to have any doubts or misgivin's
consarnin' what is like to happen, when I get back to the camp. On them
two p'ints therefore, a few words will go a great way. In the first
place, chief, I wish to say a little about Hist, and the manner in which
you red men treat your wives. I suppose it's accordin' to the gifts of
your people that the women should work, and the men hunt; but there's
such a thing as moderation in all matters. As for huntin', I see no good
reason why any limits need be set to that, but Hist comes of too good a
stock to toil like a common drudge. One of your means and standin' need
never want for corn, or potatoes, or anything that the fields yield;
therefore, I hope the hoe will never be put into the hands of any wife
of yourn. You know I am not quite a beggar, and all I own, whether in
ammunition, skins, arms, or calicoes, I give to Hist, should I not come
back to claim them by the end of the season. This will set the maiden
up, and will buy labor for her, for a long time to come. I suppose I
needn't tell you to love the young woman, for that you do already, and
whomsoever the man ra'ally loves, he'll be likely enough to cherish.
Nevertheless, it can do no harm to say that kind words never rankle,
while bitter words do. I know you're a man, Sarpent, that is less apt to
talk in his own lodge, than to speak at the Council Fire; but forgetful
moments may overtake us all, and the practyse of kind doin', and kind
talkin', is a wonderful advantage in keepin' peace in a cabin, as well
as on a hunt.”
“My ears are open,” returned the Delaware gravely; “the words of my
brother have entered so far that they never can fall out again. They
are like rings, that have no end, and cannot drop. Let him speak on; the
song of the wren and the voice of a friend never tire.”
“I will speak a little longer, chief, but you will excuse it for the
sake of old companionship, should I now talk about myself. If the worst
comes to the worst, it's not likely there'll be much left of me but
ashes, so a grave would be useless, and a sort of vanity. On that score
I'm no way partic'lar, though it might be well enough to take a look
at the remains of the pile, and should any bones, or pieces be found,
'twould be more decent to gather them together, and bury them, than to
let them lie for the wolves to gnaw at, and howl over. These matters
can make no great difference in the mind, but men of white blood and
Christian feelin's have rather a gift for graves.”
“It shall be done as my brother says,” returned the Indian, gravely. “If
his mind is full, let him empty it in the bosom of a friend.”
“I thank you, Sarpent; my mind's easy enough; yes, it's tolerable easy.
Idees will come uppermost that I'm not apt to think about in common,
it's true, but by striving ag'in some, and lettin' other some out, all
will come right in the long run. There's one thing, howsever, chief,
that does seem to me to be onreasonable, and ag'in natur', though the
missionaries say it's true, and bein' of my religion and colour I feel
bound to believe them. They say an Injin may torment and tortur' the
body to his heart's content, and scalp, and cut, and tear, and burn,
and consume all his inventions and deviltries, until nothin' is left but
ashes, and they shall be scattered to the four winds of heaven, yet when
the trumpet of God shall sound, all will come together ag'in, and the
man will stand forth in his flesh, the same creatur' as to looks, if not
as to feelin's, that he was afore he was harmed!”
“The missionaries are good men--mean well,” returned the Delaware
courteously; “they are not great medicines. They think all they say,
Deerslayer; that is no reason why warriors and orators should be all
ears. When Chingachgook shall see the father of Tamenund standing in his
scalp, and paint, and war lock, then will he believe the missionaries.”
“Seein' is believin', of a sartainty; ahs! me--and some of us may see
these things sooner than we thought. I comprehind your meanin' about
Tamenund's father, Sarpent, and the idee's a close idee. Tamenund is now
an elderly man, say eighty every day of it, and his father was scalped,
and tormented, and burnt, when the present prophet was a youngster. Yes,
if one could see that come to pass, there wouldn't be much difficulty
in yieldin' faith to all that the missionaries say. Howsever, I am
not ag'in the opinion now, for you must know, Sarpent, that the great
principle of Christianity is to believe without seeing, and a man should
always act up to his religion and principles, let them be what they
may.”
“That is strange for a wise nation!” said the Delaware with emphasis.
“The red man looks hard, that he may see and understand.”
“Yes, that's plauserble, and is agreeable to mortal pride, but it's not
as deep as it seems. If we could understand all we see, Sarpent, there
might be not only sense, but safety, in refusin' to give faith to any
one thing that we might find oncomperhensible; but when there's so many
things about which it may be said we know nothin' at all, why, there's
little use, and no reason, in bein' difficult touchin' any one in
partic'lar. For my part, Delaware, all my thoughts haven't been on the
game, when outlyin' in the hunts and scoutin's of our youth. Many's the
hour I've passed, pleasantly enough too, in what is tarmed conterplation
by my people. On such occasions the mind is actyve, though the body
seems lazy and listless. An open spot on a mountain side, where a wide
look can be had at the heavens and the 'arth, is a most judicious place
for a man to get a just idee of the power of the Manitou, and of his
own littleness. At such times, there isn't any great disposition to find
fault with little difficulties, in the way of comperhension, as there
are so many big ones to hide them. Believin' comes easy enough to me at
such times, and if the Lord made man first out of 'arth, as they tell me
it is written in the Bible; then turns him into dust at death; I see
no great difficulty in the way to bringin' him back in the body,
though ashes be the only substance left. These things lie beyond our
understandin', though they may and do lie so close to our feelin's. But,
of all the doctrines, Sarpent, that which disturbs me, and disconsarts
my mind the most, is the one which teaches us to think that a pale-face
goes to one heaven, and a red-skin to another; it may separate in death
them which lived much together, and loved each other well, in life!”
“Do the missionaries teach their white brethren to think it is so?”
demanded the Indian, with serious earnestness. “The Delawares believe
that good men and brave warriors will hunt together in the same pleasant
woods, let them belong to whatever tribe they may; that all the unjust
Indians and cowards will have to sneak in with the dogs and the wolves
to get venison for their lodges.”
“'Tis wonderful how many consaits mankind have consarnin' happiness and
misery, here after!” exclaimed the hunter, borne away by the power of
his own thoughts. “Some believe in burnin's and flames, and some think
punishment is to eat with the wolves and dogs. Then, ag'in, some fancy
heaven to be only the carryin' out of their own 'arthly longin's, while
others fancy it all gold and shinin' lights! Well, I've an idee of my
own, in that matter, which is just this, Sarpent. Whenever I've done
wrong, I've ginirally found 'twas owin' to some blindness of the mind,
which hid the right from view, and when sight has returned, then has
come sorrow and repentance. Now, I consait that, after death, when
the body is laid aside or, if used at all, is purified and without its
longin's, the spirit sees all things in their ra'al lights and never
becomes blind to truth and justice. Such bein' the case, all that has
been done in life, is beheld as plainly as the sun is seen at noon;
the good brings joy, while the evil brings sorrow. There's nothin'
onreasonable in that, but it's agreeable to every man's exper'ence.”
“I thought the pale-faces believed all men were wicked; who then could
ever find the white man's heaven?”
“That's ingen'ous, but it falls short of the missionary teachin's.
You'll be Christianized one day, I make no doubt, and then 'twill all
come plain enough. You must know, Sarpent, that there's been a great
deed of salvation done, that, by God's help, enables all men to find
a pardon for their wickednesses, and that is the essence of the white
man's religion. I can't stop to talk this matter over with you any
longer, for Hetty's in the canoe, and the furlough takes me away, but
the time will come I hope when you'll feel these things; for, after all,
they must be felt rather than reasoned about. Ah's! me; well, Delaware,
there's my hand; you know it's that of a fri'nd, and will shake it as
such, though it never has done you one half the good its owner wishes it
had.”
The Indian took the offered hand, and returned its pressure warmly. Then
falling back on his acquired stoicism of manner, which so many mistake
for constitutional indifference, he drew up in reserve, and prepared
to part from his friend with dignity. Deerslayer, however, was more
natural, nor would he have at all cared about giving way to his
feelings, had not the recent conduct and language of Judith given him
some secret, though ill defined apprehensions of a scene. He was too
humble to imagine the truth concerning the actual feelings of that
beautiful girl, while he was too observant not to have noted the
struggle she had maintained with herself, and which had so often led
her to the very verge of discovery. That something extraordinary was
concealed in her breast he thought obvious enough, and, through a
sentiment of manly delicacy that would have done credit to the highest
human refinement, he shrunk from any exposure of her secret that might
subsequently cause regret to the girl, herself. He therefore determined
to depart, now, and that without any further manifestations of feeling
either from him, or from others.
“God bless you! Sarpent--God bless you!” cried the hunter, as the canoe
left the side of the platform. “Your Manitou and my God only know when
and where we shall meet ag'in; I shall count it a great blessing, and a
full reward for any little good I may have done on 'arth, if we shall be
permitted to know each other, and to consort together, hereafter, as we
have so long done in these pleasant woods afore us!”
Chingachgook waved his hand. Drawing the light blanket he wore over
his head, as a Roman would conceal his grief in his robes, he slowly
withdrew into the Ark, in order to indulge his sorrow and his musings,
alone. Deerslayer did not speak again until the canoe was half-way to
the shore. Then he suddenly ceased paddling, at an interruption that
came from the mild, musical voice of Hetty.
“Why do you go back to the Hurons, Deerslayer?” demanded the girl. “They
say I am feeble-minded, and such they never harm, but you have as much
sense as Hurry Harry; and more too, Judith thinks, though I don't see
how that can well be.”
“Ah! Hetty, afore we land I must convarse a little with you child,
and that too on matters touching your own welfare, principally. Stop
paddling--or, rather, that the Mingos needn't think we are plotting and
contriving, and so treat us accordingly, just dip your paddle lightly,
and give the canoe a little motion and no more. That's just the idee and
the movement; I see you're ready enough at an appearance, and might be
made useful at a sarcumvention if it was lawful now to use one--that's
just the idee and the movement! Ah's! me. Desait and a false tongue are
evil things, and altogether onbecoming our colour, Hetty, but it is a
pleasure and a satisfaction to outdo the contrivances of a red-skin in
the strife of lawful warfare. My path has been short, and is like soon
to have an end, but I can see that the wanderings of a warrior aren't
altogether among brambles and difficulties. There's a bright side to a
warpath, as well as to most other things, if we'll only have the wisdom
to see it, and the ginerosity to own it.”
“And why should your warpath, as you call it, come so near to an end,
Deerslayer?”
“Because, my good girl, my furlough comes so near to an end. They're
likely to have pretty much the same tarmination, as regards time, one
following on the heels of the other, as a matter of course.”
“I don't understand your meaning, Deerslayer--” returned the girl,
looking a little bewildered. “Mother always said people ought to speak
more plainly to me than to most other persons, because I'm feeble
minded. Those that are feeble minded, don't understand as easily as
those that have sense.”
“Well then, Hetty, the simple truth is this. You know that I'm now a
captyve to the Hurons, and captyves can't do, in all things, as they
please--”
“But how can you be a captive,” eagerly interrupted the girl--“when you
are out here on the lake, in father's best canoe, and the Indians are in
the woods with no canoe at all? That can't be true, Deerslayer!”
“I wish with all my heart and soul, Hetty, that you was right, and that
I was wrong, instead of your bein' all wrong, and I bein' only too near
the truth. Free as I seem to your eyes, gal, I'm bound hand and foot in
ra'ality.”
“Well it is a great misfortune not to have sense! Now I can't see or
understand that you are a captive, or bound in any manner. If you are
bound, with what are your hands and feet fastened?”
“With a furlough, gal; that's a thong that binds tighter than any
chain. One may be broken, but the other can't. Ropes and chains allow of
knives, and desait, and contrivances; but a furlough can be neither cut,
slipped nor sarcumvented.”
“What sort of a thing is a furlough, then, if it be stronger than hemp
or iron? I never saw a furlough.”
“I hope you may never feel one, gal; the tie is altogether in the
feelin's, in these matters, and therefore is to be felt and not seen.
You can understand what it is to give a promise, I dare to say, good
little Hetty?”
“Certainly. A promise is to say you will do a thing, and that binds you
to be as good as your word. Mother always kept her promises to me, and
then she said it would be wicked if I didn't keep my promises to her,
and to every body else.”
“You have had a good mother, in some matters, child, whatever she may
have been in other some. That is a promise, and as you say it must be
kept. Now, I fell into the hands of the Mingos last night, and they let
me come off to see my fri'nds and send messages in to my own colour, if
any such feel consarn on my account, on condition that I shall be back
when the sun is up to-day, and take whatever their revenge and hatred
can contrive, in the way of torments, in satisfaction for the life of
a warrior that fell by my rifle, as well as for that of the young woman
shot by Hurry, and other disapp'intments met with on and about this
lake. What is called a promise atween mother and darter, or even atween
strangers in the settlements is called a furlough when given by one
soldier to another, on a warpath. And now I suppose you understand my
situation, Hetty.”
The girl made no answer for some time, but she ceased paddling
altogether, as if the novel idea distracted her mind too much to admit
of other employment. Then she resumed the dialogue earnestly and with
solicitude.
“Do you think the Hurons will have the heart to do what you say,
Deerslayer?” she asked. “I have found them kind and harmless.”
“That's true enough as consarns one like you, Hetty, but it's a very
different affair when it comes to an open inimy, and he too the owner of
a pretty sartain rifle. I don't say that they bear me special malice on
account of any expl'ites already performed, for that would be bragging,
as it might be, on the varge of the grave, but it's no vanity to believe
that they know one of their bravest and cunnin'est chiefs fell by my
hands. Such bein' the case, the tribe would reproach them if they failed
to send the spirit of a pale-face to keep the company of the spirit of
their red brother; always supposin' that he can catch it. I look for
no marcy, Hetty, at their hands; and my principal sorrow is that such a
calamity should befall me on my first warpath: that it would come sooner
or later, every soldier counts on and expects.”
“The Hurons shall not harm you, Deerslayer,” cried the girl, much
excited--“'Tis wicked as well as cruel; I have the Bible, here, to tell
them so. Do you think I would stand by and see you tormented?”
“I hope not, my good Hetty, I hope not; and, therefore, when the moment
comes, I expect you will move off, and not be a witness of what you
can't help, while it would grieve you. But, I haven't stopped the
paddles to talk of my own afflictions and difficulties, but to speak a
little plainly to you, gal, consarnin' your own matters.”
“What can you have to say to me, Deerslayer! Since mother died, few talk
to me of such things.”
“So much the worse, poor gal; yes, 'tis so much the worse, for one of
your state of mind needs frequent talking to, in order to escape the
snares and desaits of this wicked world. You haven't forgotten Hurry
Harry, gal, so soon, I calculate?”
“I!--I forget Henry March!” exclaimed Hetty, starting. “Why should I
forget him, Deerslayer, when he is our friend, and only left us last
night. Then the large bright star that mother loved so much to gaze at
was just over the top of yonder tall pine on the mountain, as Hurry got
into the canoe; and when you landed him on the point, near the east bay,
it wasn't more than the length of Judith's handsomest ribbon above it.”
“And how can you know how long I was gone, or how far I went to land
Hurry, seein' you were not with us, and the distance was so great, to
say nothing of the night?”
“Oh! I know when it was, well enough,” returned Hetty
positively--“There's more ways than one for counting time and distance.
When the mind is engaged, it is better than any clock. Mine is feeble,
I know, but it goes true enough in all that touches poor Hurry Harry.
Judith will never marry March, Deerslayer.”
“That's the p'int, Hetty; that's the very p'int I want to come to.
I suppose you know that it's nat'ral for young people to have kind
feelin's for one another, more especially when one happens to be a youth
and t'other a maiden. Now, one of your years and mind, gal, that has
neither father nor mother, and who lives in a wilderness frequented by
hunters and trappers, needs be on her guard against evils she little
dreams of.”
“What harm can it be to think well of a fellow creature,” returned Hetty
simply, though the conscious blood was stealing to her cheeks in spite
of a spirit so pure that it scarce knew why it prompted the blush, “the
Bible tells us to 'love them who despitefully use' us, and why shouldn't
we like them that do not.”
“Ah! Hetty, the love of the missionaries isn't the sort of likin' I
mean. Answer me one thing, child; do you believe yourself to have mind
enough to become a wife, and a mother?”
“That's not a proper question to ask a young woman, Deerslayer, and
I'll not answer it,” returned the girl, in a reproving manner--much as
a parent rebukes a child for an act of indiscretion. “If you have any
thing to say about Hurry, I'll hear that--but you must not speak evil of
him; he is absent, and 'tis unkind to talk evil of the absent.”
“Your mother has given you so many good lessons, Hetty, that my fears
for you are not as great as they were. Nevertheless, a young woman
without parents, in your state of mind, and who is not without beauty,
must always be in danger in such a lawless region as this. I would say
nothin' amiss of Hurry, who, in the main, is not a bad man for one
of his callin', but you ought to know one thing, which it may not be
altogether pleasant to tell you, but which must be said. March has a
desperate likin' for your sister Judith.”
“Well, what of that? Everybody admires Judith, she's so handsome, and
Hurry has told me, again and again, how much he wishes to marry her.
But that will never come to pass, for Judith don't like Hurry. She likes
another, and talks about him in her sleep; though you need not ask me
who he is, for all the gold in King George's crown, and all the jewels
too, wouldn't tempt me to tell you his name. If sisters can't keep each
other's secrets, who can?”
“Sartainly, I do not wish you to tell me, Hetty, nor would it be any
advantage to a dyin' man to know. What the tongue says when the mind's
asleep, neither head nor heart is answerable for.”
“I wish I knew why Judith talks so much in her sleep, about officers,
and honest hearts, and false tongues, but I suppose she don't like to
tell me, as I'm feeble minded. Isn't it odd, Deerslayer, that Judith
don't like Hurry--he who is the bravest looking youth that ever comes
upon the lake, and is as handsome as she is herself. Father always said
they would be the comeliest couple in the country, though mother didn't
fancy March any more than Judith. There's no telling what will happen,
they say, until things actually come to pass.”
“Ahs! me--well, poor Hetty, 'tis of no great use to talk to them that
can't understand you, and so I'll say no more about what I did wish
to speak of, though it lay heavy on my mind. Put the paddle in motion
ag'in, gal, and we'll push for the shore, for the sun is nearly up, and
my furlough is almost out.”
The canoe now glided ahead, holding its way towards the point where
Deerslayer well knew that his enemies expected him, and where he now
began to be afraid he might not arrive in season to redeem his
plighted faith. Hetty, perceiving his impatience without very clearly
comprehending its cause, however, seconded his efforts in a way that
soon rendered their timely return no longer a matter of doubt. Then,
and then only, did the young man suffer his exertions to flag, and Hetty
began, again, to prattle in her simple confiding manner, though nothing
farther was uttered that it may be thought necessary to relate.