“The ugly bear now minded not the stake,
Nor how the cruel mastiffs do him tear,
The stag lay still unroused from the brake,
The foamy boar feared not the hunter's spear:
All thing was still in desert, bush, and briar:”
Thomas Sackville; “The Complaint of Henry Duke of Buckingham,”
lxxxi.
'Twas one of the common expedients of the savages, on such occasions,
to put the nerves of their victims to the severest proofs. On the other
hand, it was a matter of Indian pride to betray no yielding to terror,
or pain, but for the prisoner to provoke his enemies to such acts of
violence as would soonest produce death. Many a warrior had been known
to bring his own sufferings to a more speedy termination, by taunting
reproaches and reviling language, when he found that his physical system
was giving way under the agony of sufferings produced by a hellish
ingenuity that might well eclipse all that has been said of the infernal
devices of religious persecution. This happy expedient of taking refuge
from the ferocity of his foes, in their passions, was denied Deerslayer
however, by his peculiar notions of the duty of a white man, and he
had stoutly made up his mind to endure everything, in preference to
disgracing his colour.
No sooner did the young men understand that they were at liberty to
commence, than some of the boldest and most forward among them sprang
into the arena, tomahawk in hand. Here they prepared to throw that
dangerous weapon, the object being to strike the tree as near as
possible to the victim's head, without absolutely hitting him. This
was so hazardous an experiment that none but those who were known to be
exceedingly expert with the weapon were allowed to enter the lists
at all, lest an early death might interfere with the expected
entertainment. In the truest hands it was seldom that the captive
escaped injury in these trials, and it often happened that death
followed, even when the blow was not premeditated. In the particular
case of our hero, Rivenoak and the older warriors were apprehensive that
the example of the Panther's fate might prove a motive with some fiery
spirit suddenly to sacrifice his conqueror, when the temptation of
effecting it in precisely the same manner, and possibly with the
identical weapon with which the warrior had fallen, offered. This
circumstance of itself rendered the ordeal of the tomahawk doubly
critical for the Deerslayer. It would seem, however, that all who now
entered what we shall call the lists, were more disposed to exhibit
their own dexterity, than to resent the deaths of their comrades. Each
prepared himself for the trial with the feelings of rivalry, rather
than with the desire for vengeance, and, for the first few minutes, the
prisoner had little more connection with the result, than grew out of
the interest that necessarily attached itself to a living target. The
young men were eager, instead of being fierce, and Rivenoak thought he
still saw signs of being able to save the life of the captive when the
vanity of the young men had been gratified; always admitting that it was
not sacrificed to the delicate experiments that were about to be made.
The first youth who presented himself for the trial was called The
Raven, having as yet had no opportunity of obtaining a more warlike
sobriquet. He was remarkable for high pretension, rather than for skill
or exploits, and those who knew his character thought the captive
in imminent danger when he took his stand, and poised the tomahawk.
Nevertheless, the young man was good natured, and no thought was
uppermost in his mind other than the desire to make a better cast than
any of his fellows. Deerslayer got an inkling of this warrior's want
of reputation by the injunctions that he had received from the seniors,
who, indeed, would have objected to his appearing in the arena, at all,
but for an influence derived from his father; an aged warrior of
great merit, who was then in the lodges of the tribe. Still, our hero
maintained an appearance of self-possession. He had made up his mind
that his hour was come, and it would have been a mercy, instead of a
calamity, to fall by the unsteadiness of the first hand that was raised
against him. After a suitable number of flourishes and gesticulations
that promised much more than he could perform, the Raven let the
tomahawk quit his hand. The weapon whirled through the air with the
usual evolutions, cut a chip from the sapling to which the prisoner was
bound within a few inches of his cheek, and stuck in a large oak that
grew several yards behind him. This was decidedly a bad effort, and a
common sneer proclaimed as much, to the great mortification of the young
man. On the other hand, there was a general but suppressed murmur of
admiration at the steadiness with which the captive stood the trial. The
head was the only part he could move, and this had been purposely left
free, that the tormentors might have the amusement, and the tormented
endure the shame, of his dodging, and otherwise attempting to avoid the
blows. Deerslayer disappointed these hopes by a command of nerve that
rendered his whole body as immovable as the tree to which he was bound.
Nor did he even adopt the natural and usual expedient of shutting his
eyes, the firmest and oldest warrior of the red-men never having more
disdainfully denied himself this advantage under similar circumstances.
The Raven had no sooner made his unsuccessful and puerile effort, than
he was succeeded by le Daim-Mose, or the Moose; a middle aged warrior
who was particularly skilful in the use of the tomahawk, and from whose
attempt the spectators confidently looked for gratification. This man
had none of the good nature of the Raven, but he would gladly have
sacrificed the captive to his hatred of the pale-faces generally,
were it not for the greater interest he felt in his own success as
one particularly skilled in the use of this weapon. He took his stand
quietly, but with an air of confidence, poised his little axe but
a single instant, advanced a foot with a quick motion, and threw.
Deerslayer saw the keen instrument whirling towards him, and believed
all was over; still, he was not touched. The tomahawk had actually bound
the head of the captive to the tree, by carrying before it some of his
hair, having buried itself deep beneath the soft bark. A general yell
expressed the delight of the spectators, and the Moose felt his heart
soften a little towards the prisoner, whose steadiness of nerve alone
enabled him to give this evidence of his consummate skill.
Le Daim-Mose was succeeded by the Bounding Boy, or le Garcon qui Bondi
who came leaping into the circle, like a hound or a goat at play. This
was one of those elastic youths whose muscles seemed always in motion,
and who either affected, or who from habit was actually unable, to
move in any other manner than by showing the antics just mentioned.
Nevertheless, he was both brave and skilful, and had gained the respect
of his people by deeds in war, as well as success in the hunts. A
far nobler name would long since have fallen to his share, had not a
French-man of rank inadvertently given him this sobriquet, which he
religiously preserved as coming from his Great Father who lived beyond
the Wide Salt Lake. The Bounding Boy skipped about in front of the
captive, menacing him with his tomahawk, now on one side and now on
another, and then again in front, in the vain hope of being able
to extort some sign of fear by this parade of danger. At length
Deerslayer's patience became exhausted by all this mummery, and he spoke
for the first time since the trial had actually commenced.
“Throw away, Huron,” he cried, “or your tomahawk will forget its ar'n'd.
Why do you keep loping about like a fa'a'n that's showing its dam how
well it can skip, when you're a warrior grown, yourself, and a warrior
grown defies you and all your silly antiks. Throw, or the Huron gals
will laugh in your face.”
Although not intended to produce such an effect, the last words aroused
the “Bounding” warrior to fury. The same nervous excitability which
rendered him so active in his person, made it difficult to repress his
feelings, and the words were scarcely past the lips of the speaker
than the tomahawk left the hand of the Indian. Nor was it cast without
ill-will, and a fierce determination to slay. Had the intention been
less deadly, the danger might have been greater. The aim was uncertain,
and the weapon glanced near the cheek of the captive, slightly cutting
the shoulder in its evolutions. This was the first instance in which
any other object than that of terrifying the prisoner, and of displaying
skill had been manifested, and the Bounding Boy was immediately led from
the arena, and was warmly rebuked for his intemperate haste, which had
come so near defeating all the hopes of the band. To this irritable
person succeeded several other young warriors, who not only hurled the
tomahawk, but who cast the knife, a far more dangerous experiment, with
reckless indifference; yet they always manifested a skill that prevented
any injury to the captive. Several times Deerslayer was grazed, but in
no instance did he receive what might be termed a wound. The unflinching
firmness with which he faced his assailants, more especially in the sort
of rally with which this trial terminated, excited a profound respect in
the spectators, and when the chiefs announced that the prisoner had
well withstood the trials of the knife and the tomahawk, there was not a
single individual in the band who really felt any hostility towards
him, with the exception of Sumach and the Bounding Boy. These two
discontented spirits got together, it is true, feeding each other's
ire, but as yet their malignant feelings were confined very much to
themselves, though there existed the danger that the others, ere long,
could not fail to be excited by their own efforts into that demoniacal
state which usually accompanied all similar scenes among the red men.
Rivenoak now told his people that the pale-face had proved himself to be
a man. He might live with the Delawares, but he had not been made woman
with that tribe. He wished to know whether it was the desire of the
Hurons to proceed any further. Even the gentlest of the females,
however, had received too much satisfaction in the late trials to forego
their expectations of a gratifying exhibition, and there was but one
voice in the request to proceed. The politic chief, who had some such
desire to receive so celebrated a hunter into his tribe, as a European
Minister has to devise a new and available means of taxation, sought
every plausible means of arresting the trial in season, for he well
knew, if permitted to go far enough to arouse the more ferocious
passions of the tormentors, it would be as easy to dam the waters of
the great lakes of his own region, as to attempt to arrest them in their
bloody career. He therefore called four or five of the best marksmen to
him, and bid them put the captive to the proof of the rifle, while
at the same time he cautioned them touching the necessity of their
maintaining their own credit, by the closest attention to the manner of
exhibiting their skill.
When Deerslayer saw the chosen warriors step into the circle, with their
arms prepared for service, he felt some such relief as the miserable
sufferer, who has long endured the agonies of disease, feels at the
certain approach of death. Any trifling variance in the aim of this
formidable weapon would prove fatal; since, the head being the target,
or rather the point it was desired to graze without injuring, an inch or
two of difference in the line of projection must at once determine the
question of life or death.
In the torture by the rifle there was none of the latitude permitted
that appeared in the case of even Gessler's apple, a hair's breadth
being, in fact, the utmost limits that an expert marksman would allow
himself on an occasion like this. Victims were frequently shot through
the head by too eager or unskilful hands, and it often occurred that,
exasperated by the fortitude and taunts of the prisoner, death was
dealt intentionally in a moment of ungovernable irritation. All this
Deerslayer well knew, for it was in relating the traditions of such
scenes, as well as of the battles and victories of their people, that
the old men beguiled the long winter evenings in their cabins. He
now fully expected the end of his career, and experienced a sort of
melancholy pleasure in the idea that he was to fall by a weapon as much
beloved as the rifle. A slight interruption, however, took place before
the business was allowed to proceed.
Hetty Hutter witnessed all that passed, and the scene at first had
pressed upon her feeble mind in a way to paralyze it entirely; but, by
this time she had rallied, and was growing indignant at the unmerited
suffering the Indians were inflicting on her friend. Though timid, and
shy as the young of the deer on so many occasions, this right-feeling
girl was always intrepid in the cause of humanity; the lessons of her
mother, and the impulses of her own heart--perhaps we might say the
promptings of that unseen and pure spirit that seemed ever to watch over
and direct her actions--uniting to keep down the apprehensions of
woman, and to impel her to be bold and resolute. She now appeared in the
circle, gentle, feminine, even bashful in mien, as usual, but earnest
in her words and countenance, speaking like one who knew herself to be
sustained by the high authority of God.
“Why do you torment Deerslayer, redmen?” she asked “What has he done
that you trifle with his life; who has given you the right to be his
judges? Suppose one of your knives or tomahawks had hit him; what Indian
among you all could cure the wound you would make. Besides, in harming
Deerslayer, you injure your own friend; when father and Hurry Harry came
after your scalps, he refused to be of the party, and staid in the canoe
by himself. You are tormenting a good friend, in tormenting this young
man!”
The Hurons listened with grave attention, and one among them, who
understood English, translated what had been said into their native
tongue. As soon as Rivenoak was made acquainted with the purport of her
address he answered it in his own dialect; the interpreter conveying it
to the girl in English.
“My daughter is very welcome to speak,” said the stern old orator, using
gentle intonations and smiling as kindly as if addressing a child--“The
Hurons are glad to hear her voice; they listen to what she says. The
Great Spirit often speaks to men with such tongues. This time, her eyes
have not been open wide enough to see all that has happened. Deerslayer
did not come for our scalps, that is true; why did he not come? Here
they are on our heads; the war locks are ready to be taken hold of; a
bold enemy ought to stretch out his hand to seize them. The Iroquois
are too great a nation to punish men that take scalps. What they do
themselves, they like to see others do. Let my daughter look around
her and count my warriors. Had I as many hands as four warriors, their
fingers would be fewer than my people, when they came into your hunting
grounds. Now, a whole hand is missing. Where are the fingers? Two have
been cut off by this pale-face; my Hurons wish to see if he did this by
means of a stout heart, or by treachery. Like a skulking fox, or like a
leaping panther.”
“You know yourself, Huron, how one of them fell. I saw it, and you all
saw it, too. 'Twas too bloody to look at; but it was not Deerslayer's
fault. Your warrior sought his life, and he defended himself. I don't
know whether this good book says that it was right, but all men will
do that. Come, if you want to know which of you can shoot best, give
Deerslayer a rifle, and then you will find how much more expert he is
than any of your warriors; yes, than all of them together!”
Could one have looked upon such a scene with indifference, he would
have been amused at the gravity with which the savages listened to the
translation of this unusual request. No taunt, no smile mingled with
their surprise, for Hetty had a character and a manner too saintly to
subject her infirmity to the mockings of the rude and ferocious. On the
contrary, she was answered with respectful attention.
“My daughter does not always talk like a chief at a Council Fire,”
returned Rivenoak, “or she would not have said this. Two of my warriors
have fallen by the blows of our prisoner; their grave is too small to
hold a third. The Hurons do not like to crowd their dead. If there is
another spirit about to set out for the far off world, it must not
be the spirit of a Huron; it must be the spirit of a pale-face. Go,
daughter, and sit by Sumach, who is in grief; let the Huron warriors
show how well they can shoot; let the pale-face show how little he cares
for their bullets.”
Hetty's mind was unequal to a sustained discussion, and accustomed to
defer to the directions of her seniors she did as told, seating herself
passively on a log by the side of the Sumach, and averting her face from
the painful scene that was occurring within the circle.
The warriors, as soon as this interruption had ceased, resumed their
places, and again prepared to exhibit their skill. As there was a double
object in view, that of putting the constancy of the captive to the
proof, and that of showing how steady were the hands of the marksmen
under circumstances of excitement, the distance was small, and, in one
sense, safe. But in diminishing the distance taken by the tormentors,
the trial to the nerves of the captive was essentially increased. The
face of Deerslayer, indeed, was just removed sufficiently from the ends
of the guns to escape the effects of the flash, and his steady eye
was enabled to look directly into their muzzles, as it might be, in
anticipation of the fatal messenger that was to issue from each. The
cunning Hurons well knew this fact, and scarce one levelled his piece
without first causing it to point as near as possible at the forehead
of the prisoner, in the hope that his fortitude would fail him, and that
the band would enjoy the triumph of seeing a victim quail under their
ingenious cruelty. Nevertheless each of the competitors was still
careful not to injure, the disgrace of striking prematurely being second
only to that of failing altogether in attaining the object. Shot
after shot was made; all the bullets coming in close proximity to the
Deerslayer's head, without touching it. Still no one could detect even
the twitching of a muscle on the part of the captive, or the slightest
winking of an eye. This indomitable resolution, which so much exceeded
everything of its kind that any present had before witnessed, might
be referred to three distinct causes. The first was resignation to his
fate, blended with natural steadiness of deportment; for our hero had
calmly made up his mind that he must die, and preferred this mode to any
other; the second was his great familiarity with this particular weapon,
which deprived it of all the terror that is usually connected with the
mere form of the danger; and the third was this familiarity carried out
in practice, to a degree so nice as to enable the intended victim to
tell, within an inch, the precise spot where each bullet must strike,
for he calculated its range by looking in at the bore of the piece. So
exact was Deerslayer's estimation of the line of fire, that his pride of
feeling finally got the better of his resignation, and when five or six
had discharged their bullets into the tree, he could not refrain from
expressing his contempt at their want of hand and eye.
“You may call this shooting, Mingos!” he exclaimed, “but we've squaws
among the Delawares, and I have known Dutch gals on the Mohawk, that
could outdo your greatest indivours. Ondo these arms of mine, put a
rifle into my hands, and I'll pin the thinnest warlock in your party
to any tree you can show me, and this at a hundred yards--ay, or at two
hundred if the objects can be seen, nineteen shots in twenty; or, for
that matter twenty in twenty, if the piece is creditable and trusty!”
A low menacing murmur followed this cool taunt. The ire of the warriors
kindled at listening to such a reproach from one who so far disdained
their efforts as to refuse even to wink when a rifle was discharged as
near his face as could be done without burning it. Rivenoak perceived
that the moment was critical, and, still retaining his hope of adopting
so noted a hunter into his tribe, the politic old chief interposed in
time, probably to prevent an immediate resort to that portion of the
torture which must necessarily have produced death through extreme
bodily suffering, if in no other manner. Moving into the centre of
the irritated group, he addressed them with his usual wily logic and
plausible manner, at once suppressing the fierce movement that had
commenced.
“I see how it is,” he said. “We have been like the pale-faces when they
fasten their doors at night, out of fear of the red men. They use so
many bars that the fire comes and burns them before they can get out.
We have bound the Deerslayer too tight: the thongs keep his limbs from
shaking and his eyes from shutting. Loosen him; let us see what his own
body is really made of.”
It is often the case when we are thwarted in a cherished scheme, that
any expedient, however unlikely to succeed, is gladly resorted to in
preference to a total abandonment of the project. So it was with the
Hurons. The proposal of the chief found instant favor, and several hands
were immediately at work, cutting and tearing the ropes of bark from the
body of our hero. In half a minute Deerslayer stood as free from bonds
as when an hour before he had commenced his flight on the side of the
mountain. Some little time was necessary that he should recover the use
of his limbs, the circulation of the blood having been checked by the
tightness of the ligatures, and this was accorded to him by the politic
Rivenoak, under the pretence that his body would be more likely to
submit to apprehension if its true tone were restored; though really
with a view to give time to the fierce passions which had been awakened
in the bosoms of his young men to subside. This ruse succeeded, and
Deerslayer by rubbing his limbs, stamping his feet, and moving about,
soon regained the circulation, recovering all his physical powers as
effectually as if nothing had occurred to disturb them.
It is seldom men think of death in the pride of their health and
strength. So it was with Deerslayer. Having been helplessly bound and,
as he had every reason to suppose, so lately on the very verge of the
other world, to find himself so unexpectedly liberated, in possession of
his strength and with a full command of limb, acted on him like a sudden
restoration to life, reanimating hopes that he had once absolutely
abandoned. From that instant all his plans changed. In this, he simply
obeyed a law of nature; for while we have wished to represent our hero
as being resigned to his fate, it has been far from our intention to
represent him as anxious to die. From the instant that his buoyancy of
feeling revived, his thoughts were keenly bent on the various projects
that presented themselves as modes of evading the designs of his
enemies, and he again became the quick witted, ingenious and determined
woodsman, alive to all his own powers and resources. The change was so
great that his mind resumed its elasticity, and no longer thinking of
submission, it dwelt only on the devices of the sort of warfare in which
he was engaged.
As soon as Deerslayer was released, the band divided itself in a circle
around him, in order to hedge him in, and the desire to break down his
spirit grew in them, precisely as they saw proofs of the difficulty
there would be in subduing it. The honor of the band was now involved in
the issue, and even the fair sex lost all its sympathy with suffering in
the desire to save the reputation of the tribe. The voices of the girls,
soft and melodious as nature had made them, were heard mingling with
the menaces of the men, and the wrongs of Sumach suddenly assumed the
character of injuries inflicted on every Huron female. Yielding to this
rising tumult, the men drew back a little, signifying to the females
that they left the captive, for a time, in their hands, it being a
common practice on such occasions for the women to endeavor to throw the
victim into a rage by their taunts and revilings, and then to turn him
suddenly over to the men in a state of mind that was little favorable to
resisting the agony of bodily suffering. Nor was this party without the
proper instruments for effecting such a purpose. Sumach had a notoriety
as a scold, and one or two crones, like the She Bear, had come out with
the party, most probably as the conservators of its decency and moral
discipline; such things occurring in savage as well as in civilized
life. It is unnecessary to repeat all that ferocity and ignorance could
invent for such a purpose, the only difference between this outbreaking
of feminine anger, and a similar scene among ourselves, consisting in
the figures of speech and the epithets, the Huron women calling their
prisoner by the names of the lower and least respected animals that were
known to themselves.
But Deerslayer's mind was too much occupied to permit him to be
disturbed by the abuse of excited hags, and their rage necessarily
increasing with his indifference, as his indifference increased with
their rage, the furies soon rendered themselves impotent by their
own excesses. Perceiving that the attempt was a complete failure, the
warriors interfered to put a stop to this scene, and this so much the
more because preparations were now seriously making for the commencement
of the real tortures, or that which would put the fortitude of the
sufferer to the test of severe bodily pain. A sudden and unlooked for
announcement, that proceeded from one of the look-outs, a boy ten
or twelve years old, however, put a momentary check to the whole
proceedings. As this interruption has a close connection with the
dénouement of our story, it shall be given in a separate chapter.