“So deem'st thou--so each mortal deems
Of that which is from that which seems;
But other harvest here
Than that which peasant's scythe demands,
Was gather'd in by sterner hands,
With bayonet, blade, and spear.”
Scott, “The Field of Waterloo,” V.i-6.
It exceeded Deerslayer's power to ascertain what had produced the sudden
pause in the movements of his enemies, until the fact was revealed in
the due course of events. He perceived that much agitation prevailed
among the women in particular, while the warriors rested on their arms
in a sort of dignified expectation. It was plain no alarm was excited,
though it was not equally apparent that a friendly occurrence produced
the delay. Rivenoak was evidently apprised of all, and by a gesture of
his arm he appeared to direct the circle to remain unbroken, and for
each person to await the issue in the situation he or she then occupied.
It required but a minute or two to bring an explanation of this singular
and mysterious pause, which was soon terminated by the appearance of
Judith on the exterior of the line of bodies, and her ready admission
within its circle.
If Deerslayer was startled by this unexpected arrival, well knowing
that the quick witted girl could claim none of that exemption from the
penalties of captivity that was so cheerfully accorded to her feebler
minded sister, he was equally astonished at the guise in which she came.
All her ordinary forest attire, neat and becoming as this usually was,
had been laid aside for the brocade that has been already mentioned,
and which had once before wrought so great and magical an effect in
her appearance. Nor was this all. Accustomed to see the ladies of the
garrison in the formal, gala attire of the day, and familiar with
the more critical niceties of these matters, the girl had managed to
complete her dress in a way to leave nothing strikingly defective in its
details, or even to betray an incongruity that would have been detected
by one practised in the mysteries of the toilet. Head, feet, arms,
hands, bust, and drapery, were all in harmony, as female attire was
then deemed attractive and harmonious, and the end she aimed at, that of
imposing on the uninstructed senses of the savages, by causing them to
believe their guest was a woman of rank and importance, might well
have succeeded with those whose habits had taught them to discriminate
between persons. Judith, in addition to her rare native beauty, had a
singular grace of person, and her mother had imparted enough of her own
deportment to prevent any striking or offensive vulgarity of manner; so
that, sooth to say, the gorgeous dress might have been worse bestowed in
nearly every particular. Had it been displayed in a capital, a thousand
might have worn it, before one could have been found to do more credit
to its gay colours, glossy satins, and rich laces, than the beautiful
creature whose person it now aided to adorn. The effect of such an
apparition had not been miscalculated. The instant Judith found herself
within the circle, she was, in a degree, compensated for the fearful
personal risk she ran, by the unequivocal sensation of surprise and
admiration produced by her appearance. The grim old warriors uttered
their favorite exclamation “hugh!” The younger men were still more
sensibly overcome, and even the women were not backward in letting
open manifestations of pleasure escape them. It was seldom that these
untutored children of the forest had ever seen any white female above
the commonest sort, and, as to dress, never before had so much splendor
shone before their eyes. The gayest uniforms of both French and English
seemed dull compared with the lustre of the brocade, and while the rare
personal beauty of the wearer added to the effect produced by its hues,
the attire did not fail to adorn that beauty in a way which surpassed
even the hopes of its wearer. Deerslayer himself was astounded, and this
quite as much by the brilliant picture the girl presented, as at the
indifference to consequences with which she had braved the danger of the
step she had taken. Under such circumstances, all waited for the
visitor to explain her object, which to most of the spectators seemed as
inexplicable as her appearance.
“Which of these warriors is the principal chief?” demanded Judith of
Deerslayer, as soon as she found it was expected that she should open
the communications; “my errand is too important to be delivered to any
of inferior rank. First explain to the Hurons what I say; then give an
answer to the question I have put.”
Deerslayer quietly complied, his auditors greedily listening to the
interpretation of the first words that fell from so extraordinary a
vision. The demand seemed perfectly in character for one who had every
appearance of an exalted rank, herself. Rivenoak gave an appropriate
reply, by presenting himself before his fair visitor in a way to leave
no doubt that he was entitled to all the consideration he claimed.
“I can believe this, Huron,” resumed Judith, enacting her assumed
part with a steadiness and dignity that did credit to her powers of
imitation, for she strove to impart to her manner the condescending
courtesy she had once observed in the wife of a general officer, at
a similar though a more amicable scene: “I can believe you to be the
principal person of this party; I see in your countenance the marks of
thought and reflection. To you, then, I must make my communication.”
“Let the Flower of the Woods speak,” returned the old chief courteously,
as soon as her address had been translated so that all might understand
it--“If her words are as pleasant as her looks, they will never quit my
ears; I shall hear them long after the winter of Canada has killed all
the flowers, and frozen all the speeches of summer.”
This admiration was grateful to one constituted like Judith, and
contributed to aid her self-possession, quite as much as it fed her
vanity. Smiling involuntarily, or in spite of her wish to seem reserved,
she proceeded in her plot.
“Now, Huron,” she continued, “listen to my words. Your eyes tell you
that I am no common woman. I will not say I am queen of this country;
she is afar off, in a distant land; but under our gracious monarchs,
there are many degrees of rank; one of these I fill. What that rank
is precisely, it is unnecessary for me to say, since you would not
understand it. For that information you must trust your eyes. You see
what I am; you must feel that in listening to my words, you listen to
one who can be your friend, or your enemy, as you treat her.”
This was well uttered, with a due attention to manner and a steadiness
of tone that was really surprising, considering all the circumstances
of the case. It was well, though simply rendered into the Indian
dialect too, and it was received with a respect and gravity that augured
favourably for the girl's success. But Indian thought is not easily
traced to its sources. Judith waited with anxiety to hear the answer,
filled with hope even while she doubted. Rivenoak was a ready speaker,
and he answered as promptly as comported with the notions of Indian
decorum; that peculiar people seeming to think a short delay respectful,
inasmuch as it manifests that the words already heard have been duly
weighed.
“My daughter is handsomer than the wild roses of Ontario; her voice is
pleasant to the ear as the song of the wren,” answered the cautious and
wily chief, who of all the band stood alone in not being fully imposed
on by the magnificent and unusual appearance of Judith; but who
distrusted even while he wondered: “the humming bird is not much larger
than the bee; yet, its feathers are as gay as the tail of the peacock.
The Great Spirit sometimes puts very bright clothes on very little
animals. Still He covers the Moose with coarse hair. These things are
beyond the understanding of poor Indians, who can only comprehend
what they see and hear. No doubt my daughter has a very large wigwam
somewhere about the lake; the Hurons have not found it, on account of
their ignorance?”
“I have told you, chief, that it would be useless to state my rank and
residence, in as much as you would not comprehend them. You must trust
to your eyes for this knowledge; what red man is there who cannot see?
This blanket that I wear is not the blanket of a common squaw; these
ornaments are such as the wives and daughters of chiefs only appear
in. Now, listen and hear why I have come alone among your people, and
hearken to the errand that has brought me here. The Yengeese have young
men, as well as the Hurons; and plenty of them, too; this you well
know.”
“The Yengeese are as plenty as the leaves on the trees! This every Huron
knows, and feels.”
“I understand you, chief. Had I brought a party with me, it might
have caused trouble. My young men and your young men would have looked
angrily at each other; especially had my young men seen that pale-face
bound for the torture. He is a great hunter, and is much loved by all
the garrisons, far and near. There would have been blows about him, and
the trail of the Iroquois back to the Canadas would have been marked
with blood.”
“There is so much blood on it, now,” returned the chief, gloomily, “that
it blinds our eyes. My young men see that it is all Huron.”
“No doubt; and more Huron blood would be spilt had I come surrounded
with pale-faces. I have heard of Rivenoak, and have thought it would be
better to send him back in peace to his village, that he might leave his
women and children behind him; if he then wished to come for our scalps,
we would meet him. He loves animals made of ivory, and little rifles.
See; I have brought some with me to show him. I am his friend. When
he has packed up these things among his goods, he will start for his
village, before any of my young men can overtake him, and then he will
show his people in Canada what riches they can come to seek, now that
our great fathers, across the Salt Lake, have sent each other the war
hatchet. I will lead back with me this great hunter, of whom I have need
to keep my house in venison.”
Judith, who was sufficiently familiar with Indian phraseology,
endeavored to express her ideas in the sententious manner common to
those people, and she succeeded even beyond her own expectations.
Deerslayer did her full justice in the translation, and this so much
the more readily, since the girl carefully abstained from uttering any
direct untruth; a homage she paid to the young man's known aversion to
falsehood, which he deemed a meanness altogether unworthy of a white
man's gifts. The offering of the two remaining elephants, and of the
pistols already mentioned, one of which was all the worse for the recent
accident, produced a lively sensation among the Hurons, generally,
though Rivenoak received it coldly, notwithstanding the delight with
which he had first discovered the probable existence of a creature with
two tails. In a word, this cool and sagacious savage was not so easily
imposed on as his followers, and with a sentiment of honor that half
the civilized world would have deemed supererogatory, he declined
the acceptance of a bribe that he felt no disposition to earn by a
compliance with the donor's wishes.
“Let my daughter keep her two-tailed hog, to eat when venison is
scarce,” he drily answered, “and the little gun, which has two muzzles.
The Hurons will kill deer when they are hungry, and they have long
rifles to fight with. This hunter cannot quit my young men now; they
wish to know if he is as stouthearted as he boasts himself to be.”
“That I deny, Huron--” interrupted Deerslayer, with warmth--“Yes, that
I downright deny, as ag'in truth and reason. No man has heard me boast,
and no man shall, though ye flay me alive, and then roast the quivering
flesh, with your own infarnal devices and cruelties! I may be humble,
and misfortunate, and your prisoner; but I'm no boaster, by my very
gifts.”
“My young pale-face boasts he is no boaster,” returned the crafty chief:
“he must be right. I hear a strange bird singing. It has very rich
feathers. No Huron ever before saw such feathers! They will be ashamed
to go back to their village, and tell their people that they let their
prisoner go on account of the song of this strange bird and not be able
to give the name of the bird. They do not know how to say whether it
is a wren, or a cat bird. This would be a great disgrace; my young men
would not be allowed to travel in the woods without taking their mothers
with them, to tell them the names of the birds!”
“You can ask my name of your prisoner,” returned the girl. “It is
Judith; and there is a great deal of the history of Judith in the
pale-face's best book, the Bible. If I am a bird of fine feathers, I
have also my name.”
“No,” answered the wily Huron, betraying the artifice he had so long
practised, by speaking in English with tolerable accuracy, “I not ask
prisoner. He tired; he want rest. I ask my daughter, with feeble mind.
She speak truth. Come here, daughter; you answer. Your name, Hetty?”
“Yes, that's what they call me,” returned the girl, “though it's written
Esther in the Bible.”
“He write him in bible, too! All write in bible. No matter--what her
name?”
“That's Judith, and it's so written in the Bible, though father
sometimes called her Jude. That's my sister Judith. Thomas Hutter's
daughter--Thomas Hutter, whom you called the Muskrat; though he was no
muskrat, but a man like yourselves--he lived in a house on the water,
and that was enough for you.”
A smile of triumph gleamed on the hard wrinkled countenance of the
chief, when he found how completely his appeal to the truth-loving
Hetty had succeeded. As for Judith, herself, the moment her sister was
questioned, she saw that all was lost; for no sign, or even intreaty
could have induced the right feeling girl to utter a falsehood.
To attempt to impose a daughter of the Muskrat on the savages as a
princess, or a great lady, she knew would be idle, and she saw her bold
and ingenious expedient for liberating the captive fail, through one of
the simplest and most natural causes that could be imagined. She turned
her eye on Deerslayer, therefore, as if imploring him to interfere to
save them both.
“It will not do, Judith,” said the young man, in answer to this appeal,
which he understood, though he saw its uselessness; “it will not do.
'Twas a bold idea, and fit for a general's lady, but yonder
Mingo” Rivenoak had withdrawn to a little distance, and was out of
earshot--“but yonder Mingo is an oncommon man, and not to be deceived by
any unnat'ral sarcumvention. Things must come afore him in their right
order, to draw a cloud afore his eyes! 'Twas too much to attempt making
him fancy that a queen, or a great lady, lived in these mountains, and
no doubt he thinks the fine clothes you wear is some of the plunder of
your own father--or, at least, of him who once passed for your father;
as quite likely it was, if all they say is true.”
“At all events, Deerslayer, my presence here will save you for a time.
They will hardly attempt torturing you before my face!”
“Why not, Judith? Do you think they will treat a woman of the pale faces
more tenderly than they treat their own? It's true that your sex will
most likely save you from the torments, but it will not save your
liberty, and may not save your scalp. I wish you had not come, my
good Judith; it can do no good to me, while it may do great harm to
yourself.”
“I can share your fate,” the girl answered with generous enthusiasm.
“They shall not injure you while I stand by, if in my power to prevent
it--besides--”
“Besides, what, Judith? What means have you to stop Injin cruelties, or
to avart Injin deviltries?”
“None, perhaps, Deerslayer,” answered the girl, with firmness, “but I
can suffer with my friends--die with them if necessary.”
“Ah! Judith--suffer you may; but die you will not, until the Lord's time
shall come. It's little likely that one of your sex and beauty will meet
with a harder fate than to become the wife of a chief, if, indeed your
white inclinations can stoop to match with an Injin. 'Twould have been
better had you staid in the Ark, or the castle, but what has been done,
is done. You was about to say something, when you stopped at 'besides'?”
“It might not be safe to mention it here, Deerslayer,” the girl
hurriedly answered, moving past him carelessly, that she might speak in
a lower tone; “half an hour is all in all to us. None of your friends
are idle.”
The hunter replied merely by a grateful look. Then he turned towards his
enemies, as if ready again to face their torments. A short consultation
had passed among the elders of the band, and by this time they also were
prepared with their decision. The merciful purpose of Rivenoak had been
much weakened by the artifice of Judith, which, failing of its real
object, was likely to produce results the very opposite of those she had
anticipated. This was natural; the feeling being aided by the resentment
of an Indian who found how near he had been to becoming the dupe of
an inexperienced girl. By this time, Judith's real character was fully
understood, the wide spread reputation of her beauty contributing to the
exposure. As for the unusual attire, it was confounded with the profound
mystery of the animals with two tails, and for the moment lost its
influence.
When Rivenoak, therefore, faced the captive again, it was with an
altered countenance. He had abandoned the wish of saving him, and was
no longer disposed to retard the more serious part of the torture. This
change of sentiment was, in effect, communicated to the young men,
who were already eagerly engaged in making their preparations for the
contemplated scene. Fragments of dried wood were rapidly collected near
the sapling, the splinters which it was intended to thrust into the
flesh of the victim, previously to lighting, were all collected, and the
thongs were already produced that were again to bind him to the tree.
All this was done in profound silence, Judith watching every movement
with breathless expectation, while Deerslayer himself stood seemingly as
unmoved as one of the pines of the hills. When the warriors advanced
to bind him, however, the young man glanced at Judith, as if to enquire
whether resistance or submission were most advisable. By a significant
gesture she counselled the last, and, in a minute, he was once more
fastened to the tree, a helpless object of any insult, or wrong, that
might be offered. So eagerly did every one now act, that nothing was
said. The fire was immediately lighted in the pile, and the end of all
was anxiously expected.
It was not the intention of the Hurons absolutely to destroy the life of
their victim by means of fire. They designed merely to put his physical
fortitude to the severest proofs it could endure, short of that
extremity. In the end, they fully intended to carry his scalp with
them into their village, but it was their wish first to break down his
resolution, and to reduce him to the level of a complaining sufferer.
With this view, the pile of brush and branches had been placed at a
proper distance, or, one at which it was thought the heat would soon
become intolerable, though it might not be immediately dangerous. As
often happened, however, on these occasions, this distance had been
miscalculated, and the flames began to wave their forked tongues in a
proximity to the face of the victim, that would have proved fatal, in
another instant, had not Hetty rushed through the crowd, armed with a
stick, and scattered the blazing pile in a dozen directions. More than
one hand was raised to strike this presumptuous intruder to the earth,
but the chiefs prevented the blows, by reminding their irritated
followers of the state of her mind. Hetty, herself, was insensible to
the risk she ran, but, as soon as she had performed this bold act, she
stood looking about her, in frowning resentment, as if to rebuke the
crowd of attentive savages for their cruelty.
“God bless you, dearest sister, for that brave and ready act!”
murmured Judith, herself unnerved so much as to be incapable of
exertion--“Heaven, itself, has sent you on its holy errand.”
“'Twas well meant, Judith--” rejoined the victim--“'twas excellently
meant, and 'twas timely; though it may prove ontimely in the ind! What
is to come to pass, must come to pass soon, or 'twill quickly be too
late. Had I drawn in one mouthful of that flame in breathing, the power
of man could not save my life, and you see that, this time, they've so
bound my forehead, as not to leave my head the smallest chance. 'Twas
well meant, but it might have been more marciful to let the flames act
their part.”
“Cruel, heartless Hurons!” exclaimed the still indignant Hetty--“Would
you burn a man and a Christian, as you would burn a log of wood! Do you
never read your Bibles? Or do you think God will forget such things?”
A gesture from Rivenoak caused the scattered brands to be collected.
Fresh wood was brought, even the women and children busying themselves
eagerly, in the gathering of dried sticks. The flame was just kindling
a second time, when an Indian female pushed through the circle, advanced
to the heap, and with her foot dashed aside the lighted twigs in time to
prevent the conflagration. A yell followed this second disappointment,
but when the offender turned towards the circle, and presented the
countenance of Hist, it was succeeded by a common exclamation of
pleasure and surprise. For a minute, all thought of pursuing the
business in hand was forgotten. Young and old crowded around the girl,
in haste to demand an explanation of her sudden and unlooked-for return.
It was at this critical instant that Hist spoke to Judith in a low
voice, placed some small object unseen in her hand, and then turned to
meet the salutations of the Huron girls, with whom she was personally
a great favorite. Judith recovered her self possession, and acted
promptly. The small, keen edged knife that Hist had given to the other,
was passed by the latter into the hands of Hetty, as the safest and
least suspected medium of transferring it to Deerslayer. But the feeble
intellect of the last defeated the well-grounded hopes of all three.
Instead of first cutting loose the hands of the victim, and then
concealing the knife in his clothes, in readiness for action at the
most available instant, she went to work herself, with earnestness and
simplicity, to cut the thongs that bound his head, that he might
not again be in danger of inhaling flames. Of course this deliberate
procedure was seen, and the hands of Hetty were arrested, ere she
had more than liberated the upper portion of the captive's body, not
including his arms below the elbows. This discovery at once pointed
distrust towards Hist, and to Judith's surprise, when questioned on the
subject, that spirited girl was not disposed to deny her agency in what
had passed.
“Why should I not help the Deerslayer?” the girl demanded, in the tones
of a firm minded woman. “He is the brother of a Delaware chief; my heart
is all Delaware. Come forth, miserable Briarthorn, and wash the Iroquois
paint from your face; stand before the Hurons the crow that you are. You
would eat the carrion of your own dead, rather than starve. Put him face
to face with Deerslayer, chiefs and warriors; I will show you how great
a knave you have been keeping in your tribe.”
This bold language, uttered in their own dialect and with a manner full
of confidence, produced a deep sensation among the Hurons. Treachery
is always liable to distrust, and though the recreant Briarthorn had
endeavoured to serve the enemy well, his exertions and assiduities had
gained for him little more than toleration. His wish to obtain Hist
for a wife had first induced him to betray her, and his own people, but
serious rivals to his first project had risen up among his new
friends, weakening still more their sympathies with treason. In a word,
Briarthorn had been barely permitted to remain in the Huron encampment,
where he was as closely and as jealously watched as Hist, herself,
seldom appearing before the chiefs, and sedulously keeping out of
view of Deerslayer, who, until this moment, was ignorant even of his
presence. Thus summoned, however, it was impossible to remain in the
back ground. “Wash the Iroquois paint from his face,” he did not, for
when he stood in the centre of the circle, he was so disguised in these
new colours, that at first, the hunter did not recognise him. He assumed
an air of defiance, notwithstanding, and haughtily demanded what any
could say against “Briarthorn.”
“Ask yourself that,” continued Hist with spirit, though her manner grew
less concentrated, and there was a slight air of abstraction that became
observable to Deerslayer and Judith, if to no others--“Ask that of your
own heart, sneaking woodchuck of the Delawares; come not here with the
face of an innocent man. Go look into the spring; see the colours of
your enemies on your lying skin; then come back and boast how you run
from your tribe and took the blanket of the French for your covering!
Paint yourself as bright as the humming bird, you will still be black as
the crow!”
Hist had been so uniformly gentle, while living with the Hurons, that
they now listened to her language with surprise. As for the delinquent,
his blood boiled in his veins, and it was well for the pretty speaker
that it was not in his power to execute the revenge he burned to inflict
on her, in spite of his pretended love.
“Who wishes Briarthorn?” he sternly asked--“If this pale-face is tired
of life, if afraid of Indian torments, speak, Rivenoak; I will send him
after the warriors we have lost.”
“No, chiefs--no, Rivenoak--” eagerly interrupted Hist--“Deerslayer fears
nothing; least of all a crow! Unbind him--cut his withes, place him face
to face with this cawing bird; then let us see which is tired of life!”
Hist made a forward movement, as if to take a knife from a young man,
and perform the office she had mentioned in person, but an aged warrior
interposed, at a sign from Rivenoak. This chief watched all the girl did
with distrust, for, even while speaking in her most boastful language,
and in the steadiest manner, there was an air of uncertainty and
expectation about her, that could not escape so close an observer. She
acted well; but two or three of the old men were equally satisfied that
it was merely acting. Her proposal to release Deerslayer, therefore, was
rejected, and the disappointed Hist found herself driven back from the
sapling, at the very moment she fancied herself about to be successful.
At the same time, the circle, which had got to be crowded and confused,
was enlarged, and brought once more into order. Rivenoak now announced
the intention of the old men again to proceed, the delay having
continued long enough, and leading to no result.
“Stop Huron--stay chiefs!--” exclaimed Judith, scarce knowing what she
said, or why she interposed, unless to obtain time. “For God's sake, a
single minute longer--”
The words were cut short, by another and a still more extraordinary
interruption. A young Indian came bounding through the Huron ranks,
leaping into the very centre of the circle, in a way to denote the
utmost confidence, or a temerity bordering on foolhardiness. Five or six
sentinels were still watching the lake at different and distant points,
and it was the first impression of Rivenoak that one of these had come
in, with tidings of import. Still the movements of the stranger were so
rapid, and his war dress, which scarcely left him more drapery than
an antique statue, had so little distinguishing about it, that, at the
first moment, it was impossible to ascertain whether he were friend or
foe. Three leaps carried this warrior to the side of Deerslayer,
whose withes were cut in the twinkling of an eye, with a quickness and
precision that left the prisoner perfect master of his limbs. Not till
this was effected did the stranger bestow a glance on any other object;
then he turned and showed the astonished Hurons the noble brow, fine
person, and eagle eye, of a young warrior, in the paint and panoply of a
Delaware. He held a rifle in each hand, the butts of both resting on
the earth, while from one dangled its proper pouch and horn. This was
Killdeer which, even as he looked boldly and in defiance at the crowd
around him, he suffered to fall back into the hands of its proper owner.
The presence of two armed men, though it was in their midst, startled
the Hurons. Their rifles were scattered about against the different
trees, and their only weapons were their knives and tomahawks. Still
they had too much self-possession to betray fear. It was little likely
that so small a force would assail so strong a band, and each man
expected some extraordinary proposition to succeed so decisive a step.
The stranger did not seem disposed to disappoint them; he prepared to
speak.
“Hurons,” he said, “this earth is very big. The Great Lakes are big,
too; there is room beyond them for the Iroquois; there is room for the
Delawares on this side. I am Chingachgook the Son of Uncas; the kinsman
of Tamenund. This is my betrothed; that pale-face is my friend. My heart
was heavy, when I missed him; I followed him to your camp, to see that
no harm happened to him. All the Delaware girls are waiting for Wah;
they wonder that she stays away so long. Come, let us say farewell, and
go on our path.”
“Hurons, this is your mortal enemy, the Great Serpent of them you hate!”
cried Briarthorn. “If he escape, blood will be in your moccasin prints,
from this spot to the Canadas. I am all Huron!” As the last words were
uttered, the traitor cast his knife at the naked breast of the Delaware.
A quick movement of the arm, on the part of Hist, who stood near, turned
aside the blow, the dangerous weapon burying its point in a pine. At the
next instant, a similar weapon glanced from the hand of the Serpent, and
quivered in the recreant's heart. A minute had scarcely elapsed from the
moment in which Chingachgook bounded into the circle, and that in which
Briarthorn fell, like a log, dead in his tracks. The rapidity of events
had prevented the Hurons from acting; but this catastrophe permitted no
farther delay. A common exclamation followed, and the whole party was
in motion. At this instant a sound unusual to the woods was heard, and
every Huron, male and female, paused to listen, with ears erect and
faces filled with expectation. The sound was regular and heavy, as if
the earth were struck with beetles. Objects became visible among the
trees of the background, and a body of troops was seen advancing with
measured tread. They came upon the charge, the scarlet of the King's
livery shining among the bright green foliage of the forest.
The scene that followed is not easily described. It was one in which
wild confusion, despair, and frenzied efforts, were so blended as to
destroy the unity and distinctness of the action. A general yell burst
from the enclosed Hurons; it was succeeded by the hearty cheers of
England. Still not a musket or rifle was fired, though that steady,
measured tramp continued, and the bayonet was seen gleaming in advance
of a line that counted nearly sixty men. The Hurons were taken at
a fearful disadvantage. On three sides was the water, while their
formidable and trained foes cut them off from flight on the fourth. Each
warrior rushed for his arms, and then all on the point, man, woman and
child, eagerly sought the covers. In this scene of confusion and
dismay, however, nothing could surpass the discretion and coolness of
Deerslayer. His first care was to place Judith and Hist behind trees,
and he looked for Hetty; but she had been hurried away in the crowd of
Huron women. This effected, he threw himself on a flank of the retiring
Hurons, who were inclining off towards the southern margin of the
point, in the hope of escaping through the water. Deerslayer watched his
opportunity, and finding two of his recent tormentors in a range, his
rifle first broke the silence of the terrific scene. The bullet brought
down both at one discharge. This drew a general fire from the Hurons,
and the rifle and war cry of the Serpent were heard in the clamor. Still
the trained men returned no answering volley, the whoop and piece of
Hurry alone being heard on their side, if we except the short, prompt
word of authority, and that heavy, measured and menacing tread.
Presently, however, the shrieks, groans, and denunciations that usually
accompany the use of the bayonet followed. That terrible and deadly
weapon was glutted in vengeance. The scene that succeeded was one of
those of which so many have occurred in our own times, in which neither
age nor sex forms an exemption to the lot of a savage warfare.