The Deerslayer

“March is your fri’nd, Judith; and fri’nds should be tender of each other, when apart.”

“We all know what Hurry’s friendship comes to! Let him have his own way in everything, and he’s the best fellow in the colony; but ‘head him off,’ as you say of the deer, and he is master of everything near him but himself. Hurry is no favorite of mine, Deerslayer; and I dare say, if the truth was known, and his conversation about me repeated, it would be found that he thinks no better of me than I own I do of him.”

The latter part of this speech was not uttered without uneasiness. Had the girl’s companion been more sophisticated, he might have observed the averted face, the manner in which the pretty little foot was agitated, and other signs that, for some unexplained reason, the opinions of March were not quite as much a matter of indifference to her as she thought fit to pretend. Whether this was no more than the ordinary working of female vanity, feeling keenly even when it affected not to feel at all, or whether it proceeded from that deeply-seated consciousness of right and wrong which God himself has implanted in our breasts that we may know good from evil, will be made more apparent to the reader as we proceed in the tale. Deerslayer felt embarrassed. He well remembered the cruel imputations left by March’s distrust; and, while he did not wish to injure his associate’s suit by exciting resentment against him, his tongue was one that literally knew no guile. To answer without saying more or less than he wished, was consequently a delicate duty.

“March has his say of all things in natur’, whether of fri’nd or foe,” slowly and cautiously rejoined the hunter. “He’s one of them that speak as they feel while the tongue’s a-going, and that’s sometimes different from what they’d speak if they took time to consider. Give me a Delaware, Judith, for one that reflects and ruminates on his idees! Inmity has made him thoughtful, and a loose tongue is no ricommend at their council fires.”

“I dare say March’s tongue goes free enough when it gets on the subject of Judith Hutter and her sister,” said the girl, rousing herself as if in careless disdain. “Young women’s good names are a pleasant matter of discourse with some that wouldn’t dare be so open-mouthed if there was a brother in the way. Master March may find it pleasant to traduce us, but sooner or later he’ll repent.

“Nay, Judith, this is taking the matter up too much in ’arnest. Hurry has never whispered a syllable ag’in the good name of Hetty, to begin with—”

“I see how it is—I see how it is,” impetuously interrupted Judith. “I am the one he sees fit to scorch with his withering tongue! Hetty, indeed! Poor Hetty!” she continued, her voice sinking into low, husky tones, that seemed nearly to stifle her in the utterance; “she is beyond and above his slanderous malice! Poor Hetty! If God has created her feeble-minded, the weakness lies altogether on the side of errors of which she seems to know nothing. The earth never held a purer being than Hetty Hutter, Deerslayer.”

“I can believe it—yes, I can believe that, Judith, and I hope ’arnestly that the same can be said of her handsome sister.”

There was a soothing sincerity in the voice of Deerslayer, which touched the girl’s feelings; nor did the allusion to her beauty lessen the effect with one who only knew too well the power of her personal charms. Nevertheless, the still, small voice of conscience was not hushed, and it prompted the answer which she made, after giving herself time to reflect.

“I dare say Hurry had some of his vile hints about the people of the garrisons,” she added. “He knows they are gentlemen, and can never forgive any one for being what he feels he can never become himself.”

“Not in the sense of a king’s officer, Judith, sartainly, for March has no turn thataway; but in the sense of reality, why may not a beaver-hunter be as respectable as a governor? Since you speak of it yourself, I’ll not deny that he did complain of one as humble as you being so much in the company of scarlet coats and silken sashes. But ’twas jealousy that brought it out of him, and I do think he mourned over his own thoughts as a mother would have mourned over her child.”

Perhaps Deerslayer was not aware of the full meaning that his earnest language conveyed. It is certain that he did not see the color that crimsoned the whole of Judith’s fine face, nor detect the uncontrollable distress that immediately after changed its hue to deadly paleness. A minute or two elapsed in profound stillness, the splash of the water seeming to occupy all the avenues of sound; and then Judith arose, and grasped the hand of the hunter, almost convulsively, with one of her own.

“Deerslayer,” she said, hurriedly, “I’m glad the ice is broke between us. They say that sudden friendships lead to long enmities, but I do not believe it will turn out so with us. I know not how it is—but you are the first man I ever met, who did not seem to wish to flatter—to wish my ruin—to be an enemy in disguise—never mind; say nothing to Hurry, and another time we’ll talk together again.”

As the girl released her grasp, she vanished in the house, leaving the astonished young man standing at the steering-oar, as motionless as one of the pines on the hills. So abstracted, indeed, had his thoughts become, that he was hailed by Hutter to keep the scow’s head in the right direction, before he remembered his actual situation.

CHAPTER 6 (#ulink_2feafeb5-bb49-578c-a265-0555c1b13027)

“So spake the apostate Angel, though in pain,

Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair.”

Paradise Lost, I. 125–26.

Shortly after the disappearance of Judith, a light southerly air arose, and Hutter set a large square sail, that had once been the flying top-sail of an Albany sloop, but which having become threadbare in catching the breezes of Tappan, had been condemned and sold. He had a light, tough spar of tamarack that he could raise on occasion, and with a little contrivance, his duck was spread to the wind in a sufficiently professional manner. The effect on the ark was such as to supersede the necessity of rowing; and in about two hours the castle was seen, in the darkness, rising out of the water, at the distance of a hundred yards. The sail was then lowered, and by slow degrees the scow drifted up to the building, and was secured.

No one had visited the house since Hurry and his companion left it. The place was found in the quiet of midnight, a sort of type of the solitude of a wilderness. As an enemy was known to be near, Hutter directed his daughters to abstain from the use of lights, luxuries in which they seldom indulged during the warm months, lest they might prove beacons to direct their foes where they might be found.

“In open daylight I shouldn’t fear a host of savages behind these stout logs, and they without any cover to skulk into,” added Hutter, when he had explained to his guests the reasons why he forbade the use of light; “for I’ve three or four trusty weapons always loaded, and Killdeer, in particular, is a piece that never misses. But it’s a different thing at night. A canoe might get upon us unseen, in the dark; and the savages have so many cunning ways of attacking, that I look upon it as bad enough to deal with ’em under a bright sun. I built this dwelling in order to have ’em at arm’s length, in case we should ever get to blows again. Some people think it’s too open and exposed, but I’m for anchoring out here, clear of underbrush and thickets, as the surest means of making a safe berth.”

“You was once a sailor, they tell me, old Tom?” said Hurry, in his abrupt manner, struck by one or two expressions that the other had just used, “and some people believe you could give us strange accounts of inimies and shipwrecks, if you’d a mind to come out with all you know?”

“There are people in this world, Hurry,” returned the other, evasively, “who live on other men’s thoughts; and some such often find their way into the woods. What I’ve been, or what I’ve seen in youth, is of less matter now than what the savages are. It’s of more account to find out what will happen in the next twenty-four hours than to talk over what happened twenty-four years since.”

“That’s judgment, Deerslayer; yes, that’s sound judgment. Here’s Judith and Hetty to take care of, to say nothing of our own top-knots; and, for my part, I can sleep as well in the dark as I could under a noonday sun. To me it’s no great matter whether there is light or not, to see to shut my eyes by.”

As Deerslayer seldom thought it necessary to answer his companion’s peculiar vein of humor, and Hutter was evidently indisposed to dwell longer on the subject, it’s discussion ceased with this remark. The latter had something more on his mind, however, than recollections. His daughters had no sooner left them, with an expressed intention of going to bed, than he invited his two companions to follow him again into the scow. Here the old man opened his project, keeping back the portion that he had reserved for execution by Hurry and himself.

“The great object for people posted like ourselves is to command the water,” he commenced. “So long as there is no other craft on the lake, a bark canoe is as good as a man-of-war, since the castle will not be easily taken by swimming. Now, there are but five canoes remaining in these parts, two of which are mine, and one is Hurry’s. These three we have with us here; one being fastened in the canoe-dock beneath the house, and the other two being alongside the scow. The other canoes are housed on the shore, in hollow logs, and the savages, who are such venomous enemies, will leave no likely place unexamined in the morning, if they’re serious in s’arch of bounties—”

“Now, friend Hutter,” interrupted Hurry, “the Indian don’t live that can find a canoe that is suitably wintered. I’ve done something at this business before now, and Deerslayer here knows that I am one that can hide a craft in such a way that I can’t find it myself.”

“Very true, Hurry,” put in the person to whom the appeal had been made, “but you overlook the sarcumstance that if you couldn’t see the trail of the man who did the job, I could. I’m of Master Hutter’s mind, that it’s far wiser to mistrust a savage’s ingenuity, than to build any great expectations on his want of eye-sight. If these two canoes can be got off to the castle, therefore, the sooner it’s done the better.”

“Will you be of the party that’s to do it?” demanded Hutter, in a way to show that the proposal both surprised and pleased him.

“Sartain. I’m ready to enlist in any enterprise that’s not ag’in a white man’s lawful gifts. Natur’ orders us to defend our lives, and the lives of others, too, when there’s occasion and opportunity. I’ll follow you, Floating Tom, into the Mingo camp, on such an arr’nd, and will strive to do my duty, should we come to blows; though, never having been tried in battle, I don’t like to promise more than I may be able to perform. We all know our wishes, but none know their might til put to the proof.”

“That’s modest and suitable, lad,” exclaimed Hurry. “You’ve never yet heard the crack of an angry rifle; and, let me tell you, ’tis as different from the persuasion of one of your venison speeches, as the laugh of Judith Hutter, in her best humor, is from the scolding of a Dutch house keeper on the Mohawk. I don’t expect you’ll prove much of a warrior, Deerslayer, though your equal with the bucks and the does don’t exist in all these parts. As for the ra’al sarvice, however, you’ll turn out rather rearward, according to my consait.”

“We’ll see, Hurry, we’ll see,” returned the other, meekly; so far as human eye could discover, not at all disturbed by these expressed doubts concerning his conduct on a point on which men are sensitive, precisely in the degree that they feel the consciousness of demerit; “having never been tried, I’ll wait to know, before I form any opinion of myself; and then there’ll be sartainty, instead of bragging. I’ve heard of them that was valiant afore the fight, who did little in it; and of them that waited to know their own tempers, and found that they weren’t as bad as some expected, when put to the proof.”

“At any rate, we know you can use a paddle, young man,” said Hutter, “and that’s all we shall ask of you to-night. Let us waste no more time, but get into the canoe, and do, in place of talking.”

As Hutter led the way, in the execution of his project, the boat was soon ready, with Hurry and Deerslayer at the paddles. Before the old man embarked himself, however, he held a conference of several minutes with Judith, entering the house for that purpose; then, returning, he took his place in the canoe, which left the side of the ark at the next instant.

Had there been a temple reared to God, in that solitary wilderness, its clock would have told the hour of midnight as the party set forth on their expedition. The darkness had increased, though the night was still clear, and the light of the stars sufficed for all the purposes of the adventurers. Hutter alone knew the places where the canoes were hid, and he directed the course, while his two athletic companions raised and dipped their paddles with proper caution, lest the sound should be carried to the ears of their enemies, across that sheet of placid water, in the stillness of deep night. But the bark was too light to require any extraordinary efforts, and skill supplying the place of strength, in about half an hour they were approaching the shore, at a point near a league from the castle.

“Lay on your paddles, men,” said Hutter, in a low voice, “and let us look about us for a moment. We must now be all eyes and ears, for these vermin have noses like bloodhounds.”

The shores of the lake were examined closely, in order to discover any glimmering of light that might have been left in a camp; and the men strained their eyes, in the obscurity, to see if some thread of smoke was not still stealing along the mountainside, as it arose from the dying embers of a fire. Nothing unusual could be traced; and as the position was at some distance from the outlet, or the spot where the savages had been met, it was thought safe to land. The paddles were plied again, and the bows of the canoe ground upon the gravelly beach with a gentle motion, and a sound barely audible. Hutter and Hurry immediately landed, the former carrying his own and his friend’s rifle, leaving Deerslayer in charge of the canoe. The hollow log lay a little distance up the side of the mountain, and the old man led the way towards it, using so much caution as to stop at every third or fourth step, to listen if any tread betrayed the presence of a foe. The same death-like stillness, however, reigned on the midnight scene, and the desired place was reached without an occurrence to induce alarm.

“This is it,” whispered Hutter, laying a foot on the trunk of a fallen linden; “hand me the paddles first, and draw the boat out with care, for the wretches may have left it for a bait, after all.”

“Keep my rifle handy, butt towards me, old fellow,” answered March. “If they attack me loaded, I shall want to unload the piece at ’em, at least. And feel if the pan is full.”

“All’s right,” muttered the other; “move slow, when you get your load, and let me lead the way.”

The canoe was drawn out of the log with the utmost care, raised by Hurry to his shoulder, and the two began to return to the shore, moving but a step at a time, lest they should tumble down the steep declivity. The distance was not great, but the descent was extremely difficult; and, towards the end of their little journey, Deerslayer was obliged to land and meet them, in order to aid in lifting the canoe through the bushes. With his assistance the task was successfully accomplished, and the light craft soon floated by the side of the other canoe. This was no sooner done, than all three turned anxiously towards the forest and the mountain, expecting an enemy to break out of the one, or to come rushing down the other. Still the silence was unbroken, and they all embarked with the caution that had been used in coming ashore.

Hutter now steered broad off towards the centre of the lake. Having got a sufficient distance from the shore, he cast his prize loose, knowing that it would drift slowly up the lake before the light southerly air, and intending to find it on his return. Thus relieved of his tow, the old man held his way down the lake, steering towards the very point where Hurry had made his fruitless attempt on the life of the deer. As the distance from this point to the outlet was less than a mile, it was like entering an enemy’s country; and redoubled caution became necessary. They reached the extremity of the point, however, and landed in safety on the little gravelly beach already mentioned. Unlike the last place at which they had gone ashore, here was no acclivity to ascend, the mountains looming up in the darkness quite a quarter of a mile farther west, leaving a margin of level ground between them and the strand. The point itself, though long, and covered with tall trees, was nearly flat, and for some distance only a few yards in width. Hutter and Hurry landed as before, leaving their companion in charge of the boat.

In this instance, the dead tree that contained the canoe of which they had come in quest lay about half-way between the extremity of the narrow slip of land and the place where it joined the main shore; and knowing that there was water so near him on his left, the old man led the way along the eastern side of the belt with some confidence walking boldly, though still with caution. He had landed at the point expressly to get a glimpse into the bay and to make certain that the coast was clear; otherwise he would have come ashore directly abreast of the hollow tree. There was no difficulty in finding the latter, from which the canoe was drawn as before, and instead of carrying it down to the place where Deerslayer lay, it was launched at the nearest favorable spot. As soon as it was in the water, Hurry entered it, and paddled round to the point, whither Hutter also proceeded, following the beach. As the three men had now in their possession all the boats on the lake, their confidence was greatly increased, and there was no longer the same feverish desire to quit the shore, or the same necessity for extreme caution. Their position on the extremity of the long, narrow bit of land added to the feeling of security, as it permitted an enemy to approach in only one direction, that in their front, and under circumstances that would render discovery, with their habitual vigilance, almost certain. The three now landed together, and stood grouped in consultation on the gravelly point.

“We’ve fairly tree’d the scamps,” said Hurry, chuckling at their success; “if they wish to visit the castle, let ’em wade or swim! Old Tom, that idee of your’n, in burrowing out in the lake, was high proof, and carries a fine bead. There be men who would think the land safer than the water; but, after all, reason shows it isn’t; the beaver, and rats, and other l’arned creatur’s taking to the last when hard pressed. I call our position now, entrenched, and set the Canadas at defiance.”

“Let us paddle along this south shore,” said Hutter, “and see if there’s no sign of an encampment; but, first, let me have a better look into the bay, for no one has been far enough round the inner shore of the point to make suit of that quarter yet.”

As Hutter ceased speaking, all three moved in the direction he had named. Scarce had they fairly opened the bottom of the bay, when a general start proved that their eyes had lighted on a common object at the same instant. It was no more than a dying brand, giving out its flickering and failing light; but at that hour, and in that place, it was at once as conspicuous as “a good deed in a naughty world.” There was not a shadow of doubt that this fire had been kindled at an encampment of the Indians. The situation, sheltered from observation on all sides but one, and even on that except for a very short distance, proved that more care had been taken to conceal the spot than would be used for ordinary purposes, and Hutter, who knew that a spring was near at hand, as well as one of the best fishing-stations on the lake, immediately inferred that this encampment contained the women and children of the party.

“That’s not a warrior’s encampment,” he growled to Hurry; “and there’s bounty enough sleeping round that fire to make a heavy division of head-money. Send the lad to the canoes, for there’ll come no good of him in such an onset, and let us take the matter in hand at once, like men.”

“There’s judgment in your notion, old Tom, and I like it to the backbone. Deerslayer, do you get into the canoe, lad, and paddle off into the lake with the spare one, and set it adrift, as we did with the other; after which you can float along shore, as near as you can get to the head of the bay, keeping outside the point, howsever, and outside the rushes, too. You can hear us when we want you; and if there’s any delay, I’ll call like a loon—yes, that’ll do it—the call of a loon shall be the signal. If you hear rifles, and feel like sogering, why, you may close in, and see if you can make the same hand with the savages that you do with the deer.”

“If my wishes could be followed, this matter would not be undertaken, Hurry—”

“Quite true—nobody denies it, boy; but your wishes can’t be followed; and that inds the matter. So just canoe yourself off into the middle of the lake, and by the time you get back there’ll be movements in that camp!”